Bringing Bella Home
by counselor
Summary: 1872 brothers Edward and Jasper return from the war to rebuild the farm. Edward has a son, eighteen. The three bachelors work sun up and down. Edward visits Forks twice a year for supplies and to scratch an itch with a woman there. When he finds her sick he makes a snap decision to take her home. He has no idea who she really is. And how lonely they are at home. Trouble.
1. Chapter 1

Bringing Bella Home 1

He pulled into Forks late morning. Well it was some trip down that mountain from the sanctity of his cove. He'd camped out overnight rather than make it all in one go. He'd had something he wanted to do and he had done it. Fact he'd waited this long proved he could be patient and execute control.

Well he did that all the time. He had a son. Yet he had no wish to think of the boy now. That one…he wouldn't understand. Well the grown, randy part of him would…but other than that he was nothing more than a big baby. And he didn't answer to his son about these matters.

He'd been to the store and the wagon was full. This here was the last stop before he left Forks and it wouldn't take but ten minutes at most. Yet these ten minutes would stand out in a way…like a rainbow stood out in a bleached sky after a storm. And he would bring their memory to the fire, he knew, but maybe it had gotten in his mind too strong and if he saw her oncet he could get her right back out.

He shuffled through the goods he hauled in the wagon and opened the box with the stringer of fish. She liked these he had figured, though she said nothing. And he said nothing. But the shadow of something in her face that last time. And she had to eat. Lord knew he'd felt the bones in her hips last fall when his hands went there, when he'd pulled her to him and held her while he fornicated with her…before winter set in, him in town for winter supplies, needing her flesh much as he needed the nails to hold together that lean-to him and Emmett and his brother put on quick before winter's set.

It came on him, but never so demanding before, not since he was young and demanding about everything. But this need for the sinfulness of the flesh, with this wisp of brown hair and pale skin…was fierce.

And last time, he looked around, saw how she was stocked. Had those dried beans. And he'd left that gold piece near the door. He had three and he'd given her that one because he'd made that sound when he'd given his seed and that sound had haunted him the way his reflection did when he come home from the war and saw the scar that circled his eye first time, and more the scar of a man under it.

She lived in this shanty should have fallen to the ground years before, but it nary did, too stubborn to decay and he could respect that. When she opened the door he lost control yet again and made something like a gasp and he had faced Yank fire naked with his rifle before and never made a sound of dismay, nor raised his brow, but this….

Her face so thin and white. She coughed and gathered the blanket more beneath her chin. Her beautiful hair, rich as any pelt every pulled from the river lay lifeless and flat like something out of the henhouse.

Eyes sunken and lips cracked. He came on in and she backed up seeing he was and widened the door and he looked around and saw the bottles of tonic and smelled some sick tea and the pan on the floor for the water that spilled through the roof when it rained night before.

Two days eatables in here, if a body like boiled root soup, that is. And him standing strong and in his prime his capable hand on the stringer and his stiff leg looking healthy as a fencepost if you didn't see him move.

It weren't no hard decision. The air in them mountains, it fixed things. He took the blanket from her bed and packed her few things in there. Ever since the war he could barely stand ruination. Not in man or animal or plant or tool or building…not in anything if he had power.

She was no different than a sick calf. That's all. His own disappointment in banking the fire that seemed to burn in his loins without provocation or reason would have to go out the way it did most the time by his insistence and working himself to exhaustion.

She would get better and be fit and standing like a beauty again, he knew that, and if it took forever then it did, not that he had that long, no one did, but he would see what could be done.

She had whimpered some when he started to gather her things, but after two more trips and her loaded, the fish back in his box, he picked her up and made another sound at the slight feel of her. He carried her out to the wagon then and settled her in the bed, a sliver of space made soft with the covers from her own house.

She didn't argue. She lay like the sack of rags beneath her. He got on the seat then, asking himself in his mind, What are you doing, fool?

Then a click of his tongue and flick of the reins and those two mules of his lumbered on.

By damn he'd done it now, one sickly woman, sick enough to kill them all. And him…and his boy Emmett, and his brother Jasper and ball-o-fire.


	2. Chapter 2

Bringing Bella Home 2

Lord, God it was all he could do not to look in that bed and see if she still breathed. He didn't enjoy the ride at all, not at all cause behind his worry for her was another something like a layer of shale getting ready to come apart and take him to his knees.

Soon as he got to that place he liked near the river, the place where he'd caught those fish, he pulled in there and watered the mules and got that bag of sweet cause they had some pulling to do yet, and they liked it fine but they needed something to fire them.

But before them even he saw to her. And she was burning. What in hell was he fighting here, devil or man, he didn't know. He put his hand on her clammy white skin, on her face there and her eyes opened. Well glory be, that look in her. He went to the river and wet his kerchief, washed it some cause he'd cleaned up for town at the river yesterday when he fished, knowing he'd be with her in that way, not that it would do him good now, and he got that rag wet and hurried to her and wiped her face, the bones of her so comely, but scary with no fat under the flesh. If she was his…what…here she lay dying probably and him what…ruminating like a tenderfooted…Lord he was getting dotty is what living with those two and their pathetic carrying-ons for company their constant banter like crows cawing, everything a joke and a game.

She looked at him. Her brown eyes, those silky eyes, were fever wild and confused for a minute, moreso at the sight of an ugly countenance like his over her, no doubt, but he worked that rag over her face, gentle as his hands would go.

Then he pulled back with a start. He felt it then, the thing, the middling in his mind, and he walked around the bed, and he heard them coming on and he waited there. Now him, his hair went gray back in the war. It was once red as a kettle, but no more, all color washed out of him now, him quiet, his laugh gone as well, his smile and most of his words though by figuring he was still prime.

But these two came on him out in the open they were that sure or that stupid, and he knew it was the later but stupid didn't take away mean.

This one had white hair and less years than himself. The other, he knew that one on sight, heavy and dark haired, long mustaches and eyes small in that stuffed face.

The white dismounted.

"Hey old timer," White said. Hubris showed in his slow gait and bold stare. He wore his guns outside his coat, belted and ready like a lawman or a plain fool. He pulled his gun then the one on the horse did the same. He got closer. "You're an ugly cuss," he said. "You fight for the south?"

Edward just stared.

"You mute?"

Edward kept staring. White stepped into the kill circle. That's what Edward called the circle all around him, an arm's length plus some. He had reasons for creating such a notion, but he had not thought of them or this circle in many years. Now he had.

"Should have talked, fool," White said halting close.

With his left hand Edward knocked White's gun aside, with his right he brought his knife into White's heart. And he held White there for the wild shot meant for him from fat cheeks, and that went into White's back with a sound like an ax on meat. Edward threw White and crumpled like a bag of big rocks. By that time Edward had reached inside his coat and pulled his revolver and fired into Cheek's face. Those kinds of wounds were hard to overcome…well usually you didn't…overcome. And Cheeks was teetering on that saddle.

The whole thing took seconds.

Then Edward walked closer to that rider and pulled him off that horse and let the momentum of his weight bring him to the ground. Then he shot him again. He went back to White and fired into him…the face. For Edward was a scrupulous man.

And he looked up. There she was, pulled up to look over the side of the wagon, shaking like a leaf but not sparing herself from what she saw, first studying White, then Cheeks, then back to White, to Cheeks…then her dark, sick gaze settled on Edward. She stared at him, and he put his Revolver back in its holster and he went to White and pulled out his knife and cleaned it on the dead man's clothes.

When he raised she was still watching, breathing a little too hard. "Thank you," she said low.

He licked his lips. They was drier than a nun's tit. And he had enough fire in him at this moment to pull that wagon up the mountain at a run. He'd just killed for her. By damn it made him feel good. He felt a war cry in his throat.

Then she let go of a sudden and fell back onto her pallet.

Now that did shake him.


	3. Chapter 3

Bringing Bella Home 3

He had two bodies and two horses to get rid of. He tied the horses to the wagon fore they ambled off, and the bodies he weighted in the river along with the saddles and tack. He kept the weapons.

It took him a good while for all he worked like two men. He knew others could come, but he didn't have the middling, so he trusted that enough.

He tried to listen to himself inside over the rushing of the water, the white foam and the clean breaths as he washed his sins in the river, stripped to his skin up top.

He had some marks, well his skin like a map of suffering in places. He didn't give a rat's butthole if anyone saw, but her…well sick as she was it didn't matter. He didn't want to scare her is all. The less of him showed the better. They were his stories and that's all a man had couldn't be taken and if he made them cheap…then he had nothing.

But she made him think of himself and it wasn't familiar. That's why he'd taken her from behind those two times. He'd spared her his face, and she had raised her heavy skirts and petticoats and those drawers over her ass and those knitted white stockings, then the other hand of hers on the table on which sat his hat and his gun, and she let him go, offered it all, and he'd taken himself, and he could feel his face, his mouth open, his eyes no blink at all, just looking at such a glorious sight and smelling her, that laundry, but flowers…and her shoulders narrow and never known plow, and her arms and even her elbows in that full white you could just see through and those white shoes with bows, nearly made him cry with gratitude, and he looked at that hair that thick glossy hair of hers, put up like that, some straggling, like a lady and he found his way through all that…purity…and put in his filthy whore-seeking sinner's flesh into the slick, hot, blinding, real live pulsing bucking generous ribald wicked tunnel of her reviving flesh and took her and rattled that gun, and the hat never could stay on but went sailing to the floor…oh hell why was he thinking of it his toes getting stuck that curling way in one of his boots making him kick a tree.

But he could not look at that hair just…and now it was straw…she was sticks…and someone had needed to die for it besides Jesus. And someone had and that almost made him smile.

He wet that rag again and made her drink some from his Rebel canteen and washed her face and she was going on a bit, and he liked that sound in there, not the ramblings, but that fullness in her tone in its heart that deep.

But he didn't like the fever, but she was damp under that blanket so it broke but he figured it would build again and maybe Jasper could figure it, conjure it, preacher it, dance it out of her, potion it out of her.

Or maybe it was the kind of sick medicine couldn't reach. Heart sick, life sick, giving up sick. He wasn't going to go loco about it. He tied those horses, knew they'd churn the trail too much and lead those coming after right to the cove. But for now he was good and he'd bought time and gloomy as he looked he ran to hopeful just to be cussed. That's what folks didn't know.


	4. Chapter 4

Bringing Bella Home 4

Hang on girl, is what he thought as he took those miles. And late afternoon he stopped one more time, and she took water, and she had to make some too, and he lifted her out and took her to a place to squat. Well, she wanted the river as her arm lifted and she pointed there.

A fierce thing in him…he didn't want to deny her…not a thing. But she was too weak to be set in the water, and he did not know she craved such, but hot as she was, he understood, though it was cool out, but she wanted that soothing rush of life swirling around her, he understood. It had probably been a while since she'd felt such, them just coming out of winter.

He wished he'd of picked a more secure place, but he had not foreseen this need in her. Well he would wade in and hold her in the current cause it was pretty strong here. He was an able man and nothing would pry her out of his arms.

So he set her on a large rock on the bank and knelt and undid her shoes, not the white ones with the bows, but black slippers some worn. Just holding her foot like that, it made him swallow hard, and the stocking…he had planned to see them that other way…but he rolled them down gentle, the white flesh like a bolt of lightening on a dark night, and this odd thought of kissing her knee, not his lust, though that was there, but he'd killed…and…he wanted to lay his head against her leg…it was shameful to be so weak but the thought was there. When her stockings were off he helped her stand and he helped her take off her gown and that was profoundly…tender feeling…something he knew when he would tend Emmett…but different, very different, as he lifted that finery and gathered it and she raised her arms some and he so carefully raised it over her head and her hair fanned out and he got to touch it, smooth it.

Then she made to let her shaky hands go to her drawers and he stilled her hands. Did she think he meant she should get bare? He did not. Surely she had more modesty in her than this. Well there was palsy in his hands now, and he hoped she couldn't see it…feel it. Just the thought…and her so willing. Did she have no borders? Did she trust or care so nothing for herself? Well it had to be the fever. Had to be.

So he eased her back to a sit, and he took off his boots and his pretty good socks, and his britches and his shirt and she was looking, but gentle, not judging, though there was strength in him and man in him, plenty, she should know.

There in his longjohns he lifted her…such a tiny light thing. He could carry her for miles. And he got to the water and it went over his bare feet and it was shocking and stinging, and he stepped on in there slow, rocks sharp there, slick too, and the current a bugger for force. He tried to be careful to keep his footing. He did not plan on that damn leg being so stiff that when he stumbled a might the large piece of wood in the water was just on time to ram that leg and take him down, and he would have kept her but he hit his head hard enough to rattle his brain he reckoned for next thing he knew he was coming too, had only been out for a split second as most of him was still in the water, and before he could really think he shot upright and that woman was just gone.

God above he took to walking out there and looked down river and he saw her bobbing along up ahead. So he got into that water and let it take him. He fought to keep his head up, but there was no stopping as he was pushed back down the mountain the way they'd came.

Lord, God he strained to keep that dark head of hers in his sites. And a rock got him good along the back, even with his wool suit. And he was rushing along and he tried to fight his way to an eddy near the bank and it took the strength of a horse and a mule to get there, but he did, that water spilling over him like judgment. And he got to where its wrath eased and then to the pool and he climbed out, opposite side he'd started on, his chest pumping. Then it was a tearing run with that damn bum limb of sorrow he had for a leg. He was straining frantic and he saw her still in the middle like debris on the water. He ran that bank further but he couldn't match the speed. So he got back in and was swept away again, rushing mad pushing and splashing and taking his air and him watching his own feet bob up high and then disappear.

And somehow he got closer and it was one long concentration for him, fixed on that head. And he reached her finally and his fingers got a grip on her arm, and he had to fight cross current then cause the drop off was ahead.

Finally he got the two of them out of its power and he had her in his arms. There was a scrap along her leg, but light as she was, he couldn't see any other wound from here. But her eyes were closed and soon as he was out he stumbled onto the bank. Wrong side again. He laid her there and the mud and sticks, and he set her up and patted her back, bracing her with his free arm, then laying her down and raising her again, patting again and she coughed it up then, coughed it good, cause she needed to do that apparently. And he laid her back, and her chest flailed and she was like a river creature, something magic and beautiful and his hands ran over her, checking bones, her skin. She was sound, at least on the outside.

He hefted her right up then, and started to walk the way they'd come, and her eyes were on him for most of it, and she could see it all then, his hair slicked back, not long around his face to hold folks out. She could see the scar circling, his eye, the digs in his neck, the funny thick shape of that one ear.

It was worry and relief. She was alive. That's all that mattered, and for no earthly reason, she was more alive right now than he'd seen her be since she'd opened that door back in Forks.

And he carried her for over a mile. He wanted to. And then on yonder bank where the horses and wagon and mules stood patiently, he had to go on up river to find the good crossing place free of the angry current so he could swim them across.

When they got back in the river, her eyes popped wide and her breath rushed in, but she had not felt warm in his arms since she'd got swept off. And he swam them across, his arm beneath her breasts and the weight of them resting against him. He knew all of her now, had seen it all though he'd tried not to ogle, but wet white drawers and the soft frilly undergarment she wore, it was just a haze over her flesh, her nipples dark and him just honored to redeem his foolishness and see that she breathed. He half carried her out of that water, sustained her as they stepped up the bank, and he scooped her up right away to back track to the wagon.

Well he'd done some fool things, and nearly letting her drown was top of the list. There could be no greater sin than causing her death. He tried not to look down at her, for she looked at him once more, her gaze centered and peaceful on him, her hair dark on her head and strands against the creamy face, those few freckles prominent as gravel in the river.

He slowly met the look, and for too long, and he held her and felt her and something in him self…maybe too much water from the swim, maybe panic sitting in there cause he was an idiot, but something in there was new.

Once at the place they'd left their clothing he set her on that rock and put that gown on her over her very damp underclothes. He picked up the stockings and shoes, handed them to her, then picked her up once more. Well he had her lying there, and covered good as he could, and she gripped his arm until he looked straight at her again, and she smiled. He got real busy after that, fetching her half a biscuit from the box. Almost whistling. Then practically stump running to fetch his clothes and get them on. He'd had no weapon that whole time he'd been trying to get them out of that river. He was a fool and a fool and a fool and if anyone told him this story he'd be thinking just that—fool.

He checked her, and already her eyes were closed that biscuit in her hand against her chest.

He climbed on the seat then, and he had such a sense of her now, marked off and deciphered, six freckles on her nose, little perfect ears that stuck out a might, perfect brows over eyes deep as the river, just as perplexing, just as forceful and ready to drown him. And lips….

Now…folks didn't know how he could go sometimes in his thoughts…a mite poetic. He truly loved poetry. No one could believe it, even himself. But he felt like he had one in him after this trip home. And he'd not had a new one for a spell.


	5. Chapter 5

Bringing Bella Home 5

A mile out from the cove Edward stopped and checked on Bella. She was awake and not so listless. She gave him another smile, and took a nibble of the biscuit she still held. He was not used to having such a one to feast his eyes upon. Feminine and fair like a blooming rose in the dead of the longest winter in creation.

He got the canteen and she took another sip. Well he liked putting his hand on the back of her head so much, and seeing her lips…knowing the water was going in and he was the one, and he imagined it was healing her…then he knew it was…he willed it so…with everything.

But he couldn't dally, he had done that enough…in the river…he shuddered to think how it could have gone. He untied those horses and led them in the woods and tied them there, well back off the road. Then he came crashing out and climbed back on the seat and got going.

Thing is the boy came out to meet him, still did after all this time, and if he saw those horses that would be it, and he'd raised him to be gentle and kind…well he'd tried…and the boy was all that and more…and he couldn't let trouble come over those beasts no matter how much he dreaded what he'd have to do, and much as he loved horseflesh, not him or none of his were dying over them.

It was close to sundown when Emmett met him on the road riding Briney. "Hey-up Pa. So long?"

Edward did not say what took him so long, but Briney circled the wagon and Edward knew the moment Emmett saw the woman, the air changed quick, got charged with dismay. It had been like that in battle, the air…just before something hit.

The boy pulled close as he could on that skittish mare who did not like strangers, "You bring me a ma or a sister I don't know about?" Em grinned but easy to see he was perplexed.

Well she was too young to be Em's ma, Edward opined. She wasn't old as him. He figured he had a decade in the lead. But he'd only been fourteen when he'd put the seed in made Emmett…the ma there so much older…and sending word he should come fetch his baby or she'd set him out. What a fix that was, him bewildered and skinny toting a bag full of squalling baby home, feeding Em off his milk soaked finger or a piece of rag, until Esme heard of his plight and brought her baby Jacob, nursing Em on one side, Jacob on the other.

He didn't want to think on it. But 'fore she'd come he remembered the day he'd eyed that goat's swollen teats and wondered if he could get Em in there to suckle. That always made him laugh inside though he did not show it, for at that time he had been fair serious.

"Who is she?" he asked again, and Edward just looked at his son. What a fine man he was, strong as a bull and kind-hearted, too much sometimes, Edward feared for the coldness of the world coming against him, and how it would change that good boy, but then he reckoned it was the loss of his own soft heart he still mourned, but he wondered sometimes if he didn't work the cove just to keep Em safe.

There was all the time in the world, he hoped, for this Miss to tell them who she was, what she wanted, and he'd be listening more than anyone, just to know the smallest thing. But some of it, he dreaded.

"She hurt? She sick? She dead?" Emmett said, and Edward jerked around to look, but no, she breathed.

Damn boy. Oh, man. Him and Jasper was not to call him boy no more, they was just to call him Emmett. Being eighteen, Emmett felt he was grown now, and he supposed his son was grown, but not as much as he felt at that age…well off to war…it was different times.

When they got to the cove Edward's heart lifted and the mules picked it up and Em had graded the road there, one of the things he did when Edward left as if to make sure he found a smooth way back.

He pulled to the cabin, and it was a sight, Jasper's influence here, and the herbs he grew over summer, some still dried like witches hair here and there, short, tall and scraggly, and Em would see to these mules, but he was tripping over himself to tell Jasper about the girl.

Jasper was out quick, pulling his pipe from his mouth as Em went on, and him striding to the wagon for a look.

"Hey Miss," then he looked to Edward who was across the bed reaching for the fish from the box first, and they were ruined now, but the chickens wouldn't mind, "or is it Missus?" Jasper asked like he thought Edward might have married her.

He ignored the question and went to the chicken shed and let those fish go there and laughed when that rooster came up and pecked in anger more than anything. Well he'd see. Then he went to the wagon and low and behold if Jasper wasn't already carrying Bella into the house. Well who gave him permission?

He picked up his pace but then stopped at the wagon and took a breath and gathered some packages. He'd leave the rest to Em. He went inside and nodded Em should get back out there and see to it instead of standing there gawking.

"Should I unload" Em asked.

Edward nodded again toward the door. He hated repeating himself.

Once Em was out Edward felt less worry, he didn't know why. She was on the big bed in the room there. Em slept there usual and Edward hoped it did not stink. Jasper held her stockings and shoes and was bent over asking questions about her sickness. So the buggered feeling over his brother holding her personals was somewhat mollified by his genuine concern, and much needed ministrations, but it didn't stop him from walking closer and easing those things from Jasper's hands

Jasper shot him a look. "She's had fever for over a week," he said.

Edward looked at her. She was bedraggled he knew, for when she was fixed Lord of glory there was nothing else, but still she was something on this bed, in this room, she was fine. He did not like her form rising in her gown, and not because of Jasper for he'd see the sickness first, but for himself feeling something more and not wanting it right there in his face before them.

He went in his room then, got the quilt from the chest, Ma's quilt, and he didn't want to hear about it from Jasper. Well he shook it some for the must, but it wasn't bad from the lavender.

He took it there and suddenly feeling the fool he didn't let that stop him for he was a man compelled. He carefully put that blanket over her, tucking it there, smoothing it a little, his brother's eyes on him the whole time, hers too.

"Thank you," she said soft. Then, "Mr. Edward…why'd you take me?"

He cleared his throat some, Jasper watching, straightening and folding his arms.

Well…he didn't know. But he did. He had too many reasons and they crowded his brain, then his throat. He rubbed his hands together and turned away and his brother's eyes followed him just that bit and he knew his butt was in the fire.

Well he went out then. He had to see to Emmett with that wagon, and chores needed done. But Emmet had the mules turned loose out back in the pasture and the wagon was unloaded neatly and with care. There was nothing to fuss at even. But he took her pile of rags, the things of hers he'd packed in a hurry when he'd 'taken' her. Is that what she thought? Had she been afraid?

Well of course she had. First he'd taken her, then he'd killed folks right there, then he'd lost her in the raging waters. Of course she'd been scared…willing to take all her clothes off…probably thought he'd be using her poor frail body for his lustful pleasure, then killing her off. Is that what she thought when he'd carried her into the water? Did she think he meant to throw her in?

If his hands were free he would pull gray hairs right out of his head.

But he'd struggled hard to save her. Did she know? She'd given him those two smiles, but maybe that was terror, just appearing like a smile. He didn't know.

Shit fire, he marched to the house, his arms around her bundle. He could barely stand to face her, but he had to see her all the same and what a mess.

He went in and Jasper was at the stove mixing something, and the woman appeared to be sleeping. He put her bundle on the floor near the bed. Then he went to the table and gathered Esme's packages.

"We have to talk, brother," Jasper said to him in that steady tone nearly drove him crazy. Edward was the eldest and this one best remember, he got to preaching.

Emmett came in then. Edward was just tying Esme's bundle.

"I takin' them sun-up?" Em asked, meaning those packages for the closest one he had to a mother.

Edward slung the pack on his back.

"You're taking them now?"

Jasper shushed Em for Bella's sake.

Em put his hand over his mouth, then asked in a whisper that was loud as most men's regular voices, "You taking those to Miss Esme? I want to."

Edward looked at him solid then slid the strap from his shoulder and held the pack toward Em. He'd never planned to take them but had tricked Em into wanting to. He feared he'd never leave the house with Bella on display.

"I'm takin' my dogs, too," Em said, all fired now. Boy loved to run the mountains at night when the moon was full like this.

Once Em was gone, Jasper, ever the good wife, filled Edward's plate and sat across from him. Edward had positioned himself so he could see Bella's face as she slept in Em's bed, but now Jasper blocked his view so he took a big bite and kept his eyes down.

"Her name is Isabella Swan," Jasper said.

Edward looked up at him and down quick, shoveling more. Lord he'd been starving. And by the by he'd only known her as Bella and it was irksome Jasper should be the first to know the rest.

She's from Forks and the fever's been on her. She thinks she drank some bad water as she had to haul it downriver and usually she boils it, but not for washing. There sickness in Forks?

Edward shrugged and shook his head, still eating.

"She's frail," he said. "Looks under-fed."

Well Jasper would know what that looked like.

"She doesn't know what she's doing here, Edward."

Now he did look at Jasper.

"Do you know what she's doing here, Edward?"

He kept staring.

"Do you know why you've taken another man's wife?"

Edward got on his feet. He looked over at her there in that bed, head so small on the pillow. Well he said she was a wisp of a thing. But he couldn't dally even now, his heart blown into his liver.

Married?

He had horses to kill.

But he didn't get far, him and his rifle on that dark moonlit road his leg hurting like a spike nailed into his hip. Here came Emmett leading that red one and that gold. Son of an infernal bitch.

"Pa! Look what I found tied in the woods yonder! Did you leave these for me? I know you did! Thank you, Pa. Thank you so kindly," he said. "Here you let me think we weren't gonna get no horses we didn't raise ourselves. Thank you so much, Pa."

By damn that boy hadn't been headed to Esme's first, he'd been on his way to Rosalie Hale's. He'd bet that cloth meant for Esme would have showed by Sunday on Rosalie's form. And now this one had those reins in hand and a smile on his face and now there wasn't a way in the world he could get rid of them without causing a ruckus could only be trumped were they found by kin to those he'd butchered.

Well this had been the longest damn day of his life. And still…he couldn't wait to get back in the house and stare at Isabella Swan. Even if…even so.


	6. Chapter 6

Bringing Bella Home 6

He wasn't a sad story. He didn't think of himself that way. But he had some story in him that was sad. And that made him human, that's all. When he and Jasper got out of the camp summer of '65, they were barely strong enough to make it home. Back in Douglas there were plenty times he reckoned he'd die, but it was Jasper at the end there, nearly did.

But one lesson he took out having survived…he'd never surrender to anyone presented themselves as an enemy. That's what folks didn't know about him. For surrender was what got them in Douglas and all those years of sorrow. And he'd never…never surrender again. Except to Jesus. He did that regular.

Now that first night Jasper had slept in front of the fire in the rocker, one ear on Missus Bella should she call out or some thing. But Edward had pulled a chair right up to the bed pretty much and he did not sleep one wink. He just watched her. And she did sleep, and she was restless and several times he got up enough to put Ma's quilt back over her.

Come sun up, Jasper came to and made the coffee and fried some bread and ham and made soft eggs for the woman, and she did take a bite or two. Then he said they were going to church, well Edward was, he said, and he had to go along.

Edward had never said he had to go along. Truth be told he'd rather he stayed and watched over Missus. But Missus insisted she would be fine. And the church house was on their own land, in this cove even, and they would not be far.

Night before, Emmett had stalled the new horses he thought were his, then gone to Esme's. He would not be at church this morning as Esme did not come to church with the white folks, but went to her own service three miles out. When Em stayed over he went with her.

So Edward washed outside in the pan, feet and all, and he did put on his other union suit and his best britches, then went through the main room, blushing some when he saw the Missus, then into his own room to finish sprucing himself. So he did that, all tucked and proper, and when he came out, Missus smiled at him. "You look fine," she said.

And he felt such a rush of dizziness he might pass out, he thought, but he went out to the porch, then the barn and he got horses ready for him and Jasper, and when that one was ready to go Edward waited. So they rode to church, side by side, Jasper looking at him, and him plumb tired of it by the time they got to the meeting. In his head he'd heard every word was in Jasper's head, and he wasn't backing down on this, that woman needed help.

They tied their horses in front of the white building and went inside. The windows were high up and small and the wood was seasoned dark in here. The preacher did come from around riding circuit, and folks did come from the moutains here, about twelve on the benches and the preacher did preach, heaven and hell and surrender and like always when the altar call went out for sinners and trespassers, Jasper put his hand on Edward's arm and tried to hold him on the bench, and Edward tried to stay, but when the preacher kept calling for them to come forward and lay down their burdens and carry them no more and folks kept singing, Edward felt that pulling in his legs, and those faces went through him and those sunken eyes and clinging hands and caved in stomachs and ribs showing and broken teeth and mouths open in suffering and the bodies in that massive grave…and the stench of that latrine flowing over in the rain and the layers of mud and muck and despair…and the cold…the freezing deep in your bones…months on end of it and the burn of sick in your stomach and throat…he had to go forward…he had to do it…and he pulled free from Jasper's restraint, and Jasper's words, "Edward, get back here," and he felt the protest in his leg, stiff from the bench, and he stumped on up there, his head dipping low on his neck, hat smashed in his hands, tears already starting to break lose, and he fell out there before the preacher, heavy and graceless as lead he fell, and he cried and cried…and cried.

And folks settled back, and one woman took the baby out for nursing, and one fellow left to pee and a little boy leaned into his pa and said, "When he's done cryin' we get to go, huh Pa?" And his Pa took him on his lap and gently shushed him.

And after it was over he got up like always and the preacher put his hand on Edward's forehead and said, "Devil loosen this man's tongue," and then he prayed in gibberish. And like always, Edward's tongue was not loosened, but it didn't matter, he wasn't expecting it to be, and he didn't need it, and the preacher was just doing his part.

So he went back to the bench all soft inside, and he plopped beside Jasper, and he handed Edward his handkerchief cause one was never enough. Edward wiped his face and looked at the floor and kept sniffing, and Jasper sighed cause he knew it hadn't solved a thing long run, cause next Sunday they would go through it all again.


	7. Chapter 7

Bringing Bella Home 7

Edward and Jasper were silent on the way home, well Edward always was, but Jasper, too.

Jasper did not yet know about the horses for Edward had made sure Em stabled those animals then took his dogs off the way he should of gone to begin with. He'd conveyed this by turning his son in the right direction and giving him a shove. Em had said, "I know Pa." Well, he should. He had no business going to the Hale's when he'd been sent to Esme's. That's how babies got made a boy wasn't ready for.

Now he'd have to get word to Felix to bring him two horses in trade and take these ones in the stable off to be destroyed. It be worth what ever it cost him.

Back home Edward took an anxious look in at Bella. She was sitting up in the bed, and by that…on the side of the bed. She waved her fingers at him. She had apparently been in her bag and fixed her self some. She had also tidied a bit as her things were no longer where he'd dropped them, but folded in a neat stack by the wall. She wore a simple dress, brown in color, much lighter than her hair, and that she had plaited and it lay long over her shoulder and chest and the end curled on her lap. Well his breath hitched.

He could see the beauty in her pale drawn face just waiting to get out, like those first two times he'd seen her, went to that shack he heard she did business in. "Whore in town," is what he heard. There always was, a whore in town, close the tracks, sometimes children, men not home since the war, but this one…he heard the talk in the store…and he did wonder would he ever know such again…well who would want such a one as him…and then he'd set his mind and gone, last thing afore leaving town…and then…well something in him had changed.

He saw to their horses and Jasper would see to the grub. It would be more than grub, too. It was always wholesome. They'd created a good life here, a grand life. He did not know when relief settled into ache…when gratitude showed room yet on his plate…for more. One day he was set for life…the next it seemed…he was lonely.

He'd snatched his hat off and went in the house. He'd brought the milk at sun up, and Jasper had that seen to. But she was at the stove with Jasper and they were laughing, Jasper was. She should not be on her feet, is what he thought, and standing there in this room that was so familiar…well she lit this place with a new light, that much he knew.

She turned to him and smiled. It wasn't terror then, like he'd feared, she smiled…sincere.

He had to hold himself and not jerk away and hang his hat as if she hadn't acknowledged him. Well he smoothed his hair then and did hang that hat and his coat. Beneath was his good shirt and he would leave it on for eating but he hoped he didn't spill his food on it for Jasper hated the ironing it took when he had to wash it.

He walked to the table and sat. It was set with the remains of Ma's china and he could see now she was the one laid it out. He'd not got to observe her this way, walking in a room. Yes, he'd gone to her shanty those times, but it was not this. He knew he must not stare, Jasper told him that, for he tended to get lost in it. But his eyes would not listen, they wanted to be on her, and she was waiting for the other cup of coffee, one for him as well as the one she had for herself, and walking careful she brought these to table then sat across from him. It was just coffee, and he nodded like a gentleman which he was not, but manners…and he did feel grateful.

"I am better," she said to him, elbows on the table as she raised her cup to her lips and blew across its top. Her sweet top lip…. He felt tears burn his eyes. He looked down quick and took to stirring his.

"Did you want milk?" she asked. "Jasper said…."

He shook his head and kept stirring. He was terrible at parlor talk he just realized. "My brother is a man of action," he had heard Jasper explain to others so many times. But he had it wrong. Inside Edward's head there were so many words, so many thoughts…it was too much sometimes. So his words drove his actions, not the other way around.

Jasper was speaking from where he worked at the stove. He brought hot corncakes to the table, and sorghum, then the big bowl of chicken stew. He set it there in the middle on a cloth. She put her hands over her mouth at the sight, and her eyes so troubled and lovely. Like she was proud of Jasper.

When Jasper went to serve her Edward noticed that ticking in the hollow of her throat, like a bird, the heartbeat there. Her lips forming words, her cheeks lifting with some happiness. Her eyes showed trouble and sick but there was a light yet, like in a back room.

Jasper prayed and they lifted. She had a thimble full of food. And she took a bite the size of a crumb. She slowed when she noticed Edward staring. Then her tears came and she excused herself and went to stand but she was shaky and almost fell and he and Jasper rose same time to make to catch her and she said, "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…it's been so long…."

And Jasper was closer and got her first and was helping her to the bed, and she collapsed there and fell to her side, and she did her altar cry, wetting the pillow and he rounded Jasper and sat beside her and helped her to sit up and put his arm around her and let her head rest on his shoulder and she was limp with sick and sorrow.

Now Jasper was the one staring, trying to figure things.

"You gonna tell me what this is?" Jasper said, willing for either to answer.

She lifted her head and looked at Edward and he had to swallow such a feeling as he took that one used up handkerchief Jasper had given him on the ride home for he'd just used it to wipe tears, not to blow, and he dabbed over her face with care.

"You saved me," she said to him, not shy, not looking away.

Edward was already shaking his head. It wasn't her fault, is what he meant. Those two needed killing.

But he almost reared back when her hand rested on his face and she looked so tenderly into his eyes. He could barely take such…but then…he could…and he wanted more.

"I have already brought you trouble," she said.

"What trouble?" Jasper said, his arms crossed and weight thrown to one leg. "Something more than you running from your husband?"

Well that was a funny way to say it, Edward thought, and he didn't like it much. He didn't like that word 'husband'. He didn't like the way Jasper colored it…her running. He'd taken her. There was a difference, maybe not good, or understandable…but he knew 'giving up' when he looked it in the eye. He'd seen it time and time in the camp. He knew that whole thing…and he'd seen it on her.

So Edward ignored Jasper. He hadn't planned to say, but Jasper would know about the horses…but he could lie…but if trouble came he should know…or maybe not. His sincere ignorance would be better…he was a terrible liar. But then…he had to be told. If trouble came…he should know.

"What trouble, Edward?" Jasper repeated.

Edward chewed the inside of his cheek. Then he held up two fingers.

Jasper looked to Bella. "Two?" he asked. "Two what?"

Edward was looking away so she went on in a halting voice, "My husband's brother…and one of his men. They came after us. Edward protected us. They tried to kill him."

Jasper knocked Edward on the shoulder. "They dead?"

Edward had not known one was a brother. What kind of brother? What kind of husband?

Jasper already reckoned they were dead. He turned away his hands in the air then landing on his hips when he turned back. "You got Em traipsing…what if there's more? If those two knew you had her, then others know. Ever think of that?"

"No," she said.

"No, Missus?" Jasper said, too strong for Edward's liking.

"There were no others. Just those two."

"And where, pray, is the husband?" Jasper asked, bent at the waist, his face flushed red from more than cooking. He was mad.

"Richmond," she whispered.

Jasper straightened and pulled in his chin.

"He…owns a thriving establishment there…well several…and various. He's a businessman."

"And why are you here in the hills of Tennessee in the armpit of Forks?"

Somewhere in there Edward had locked his arms around the Missus, as if to shield her from Jasper, and his face, he realized he was gritting his teeth hard and glaring at his brother.

"I…was banished," Bella said low.

Edward eased back enough to look at her. Who could banish this dove? He was of a mind to look that one up and give him some of what he'd given the brother.

"I…it is a most cumbersome story," she whispered. "And I am too exhausted to tell it. Might I rest some first?"

Jasper was saying no while Edward was easing her back to the pillow, standing once she was down, and putting his back to Jasper while he bent over her and arranged the covers.

He realized he was plumb wore out himself having not slept much for at least two nights, and swimming that river and killing and all those things he did, then the altar always took it out…and now this. He so badly wanted to sleep, but not with Jasper hovering.

So he laid right down there, boots still on, atop the covers cause he knew Jasper was behind, his eyeballs exploding, and he cared not, and he folded his arms over his chest and left a slice of bed between them, and with his side to his brother who was usually better at reading him than this for he still stood there saying, "Edward…Edward," much as he did before Edward walked the aisle…in spite of all of that…he quickly fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Bringing Bella Home 8

At one point he heard Emmett, another he knew Jasper was nearby. But it was deep morning before he really awoke. He pulled back with a start to see Emmett beside him. Well how had he not heard the snores? He tried to sit up too quick and the stiffness of not moving from one position for so many hours, nearly twenty-four, made itself known along his back.

His feet were still in his boots and he had on his rumpled Sunday clothes and his hair was hanging in his face and he felt rolled by a bull through a rocky pasture and need to piss oh Lord and thirsty and filled with the tail end of dream upon dream, all of them crazy.

Now how the hell? Where was Bella? He went first to his room, and as some part of his brain suspected, she'd been put in there, and was still curled in sleep. It should be so, he knew, but he resented the way his brother went along smoothing all the cracks and sweeping all the crumbs. He had lain by Bella from pure need to put himself between her and the door. That's it. Time came for him to lay with a woman for nefarious purposes he'd not be doing it ten feet out from the kitchen table in the middle of the house, damn that brother of his, his Aaron, his mouthpiece and him like Moses, born to lead and not an idea in hell how, and not fit no how. Well this woman was his burning bush on the desert, his miracle and he had submitted to the call. So what now?

Jasper was long up. Him and Em abed, Jasper would be out doing chores for he'd been fixing every little thing ever since Douglas and they both had their ways working it out but damn he was worse than chiggers for getting under Edward's skin.

He quietly gathered his duds in his room and went to the washpan and got hot water and shaved and scrubbed and in Jasper's room got himself readied for the day and went to the cold breakfast Jasper always left on the stove. He could almost forgive him some when he saw those flapjacks and he rolled some ham in one and stuck it in his mouth while he tucked his shirt, but he veered by Em's bed and slapped the bottom of his foot cause it was shameful to still be abed even if he had been running them dogs.

Outside in the barn Jasper was chopping carrots. He'd turned the horses in the corral, even the new ones. Edward didn't like it.

He went out and caught the first one, put him in halter and led him in the stall. He was going for the second when Jasper started his chatter. Edward only listened to every third word. He heard, "I…what…you're. I…do…didn't…reason…before… has…be…most…of… You …take…back…come…got…to

…wife."

It didn't make no sense when he listened that way. But he knew it greatly improved whatever Jasper was saying.

As he went for the second horse he reasoned back with Jasper. Bella had said there was only those two. They'd trailed him is all. They were looking for her and they trailed him. They were right behind him almost. They missed her quick is all. Once he was rid of those horses they had nothing. Even with those animals he could say they were running free and his boy found them. They had nothing. But her being here. Now that was a problem. But he could say they found her wondering and she did not choose to go home. She had been sick, near dying.

Edward did not feel the need to explain himself. But they did need to keep Missus Bella hidden for a spell until they saw what was coming. And they had to hear her story. She'd been banished, she said. That was a powerful word and he didn't like it, not a bit.

But he'd already forgiven her for being a whore. He figured whatever she'd done to get herself sent off…he could forgive that too. He knew he was a no good sinner, and he knew that Sunday after Sunday he found a piece of forgiveness not just for what he done…he was beyond that mostly…but for what was done to so many. That he was working on. So he reckoned if he could face all he'd seen…and he'd seen it all, all the unkindness…all the cruelty…all the harshness…whoring was nothing beside it. Nothing almost at all. He had no call to hold anything against her, and who did he think he was?

But first…he'd have to hear her story. Even if it couldn't change the way he felt.

Felt? He was thinking hard about it. He felt something around her…from the first.

And here's how it had been that first time. He'd set his mind and he'd gone to that door. It was like it was now…end of winter. It had hit him Em was grown. He'd fallen for Rosalie Hale. And they'd argued over it. So when he'd gone to town he'd been upset some. Ever since coming home…ever since…it had been Em and the farm. It gave him and Jasper all they could handle…and it had saved them.

But…things were better now…and Em was grown…and Jasper…well he truly doubted that Marie he wrote to so faithfully was ever gonna show around here, and Lord if he had to hear that woman's name one more time…Lord. But he was thinking that too that time he'd met Bella. And when he'd heard…he'd gone. And he wanted to see. When she'd opened the door…she lifted her chin. And soft dark hair like a cloud around her face, and her face, that white dress…this is a lady, he said to himself, and Lord, God the most beautiful he'd ever seen.

And she took his arm and pulled him in. She spouted off twenty dollars and he almost laughed out loud. But then she stood before him, defiant, and he knew twenty dollars was nothing…nothing. He could sell everything he had…well there wasn't enough.

And he put his hard money on the table with a thunk. She went and laid on the poor bed in the corner, just flat on her back and she said, "Well come on then," all angry.

And he stood there thinking this didn't seem right. But he went to her and took her hand and she didn't fight but rose onto her feet. And he led her to the table there, and turned her to it and she put her hands on it. "Like this?" she had whispered, looking over her shoulder. Yes, that was what he figured. That's when he'd put his hand on her skirt and raised it, and she had stood there, bent some, hands on the table, and once her skirts were raised, his breath was so quick. If he could…he'd have told her he was sorry…and he was…and he wasn't…and he loathed himself…and he was beyond himself. He did it then, and it was over for it started just about, and he hated himself, and he tried to right her clothing the way it had been.

And she was smoothing over herself and her cheeks were bright pink, and her eyes had a shine, and she said, "You needn't look so struck. I was agreeable. I don't suppose you have a name? I mean…."

Well, she was breaking his heart being so strong. And after what he'd done…relieving himself that way…she wanted his name? He wanted to give it.

"Never mind," she said taking his thinking time for dread, he guessed.

But he wanted to give it. What was she doing here? Did she want it like this? Why was she consenting?

So he took out his knife and on the table there he carved his name. He blew off the shavings come out of the wood like its own kind of blood, and he wiped them away. Then he went to her softly and took her hand and put it over those words. "Edward," she whispered, and that is what he craved…craved…hearing her say such, and she did.

And he pointed to her, and she said, "Bella."

He did something he was so embarrassed about…then glad about…then shamed over. He kissed her hand like he had not just fished through her drawers and put in his willy like a beast.

He left quick then. And since that day…little else.


	9. Chapter 9

Bringing Bella Home 9

Edward stood in front of the stalls where those two horse munched away on the morning's feed. He pointed to them and mouthed, "Felix." Em groaned and stomped his boot. "No Pa. I want to keep them." Edward shook his head. He showed two fingers and hit one of the saddles resting on the gate.

"Two saddle horses?" Em said.

Edward nodded.

"Can I pick them out?"

Edward nodded. Well that mollified the boy some.

Later, when he came in for dinner, Emmett stood in the doorway of Edward's room speaking to Missus Bella. Well he wondered where that boy took off to. He was in here bothering the Missus.

He needed to eat his dinner and get on his way, but here he was and Edward could scarce believe his ears. Em laughed way too loud, blasting such like a trumpet in her direction. "Jasper says he danced a jig once," Em had just finished saying. Well by damn a man's stories were his own.

He slammed that door to let his presence known and Em did start some and look sheepish. Jasper laid out the food, yesterday's stew and flapjacks from breakfast. Em was appreciative like always. There were four plates laid and Edward wondered if Bella was up to it. He knew Jasper would push, and he'd better not be trying to get her well, to get her on her way, for this was the way, this here, this farm.

"Miss Bella danced on the stage," Em offered, not only fancy free with Edward's stories apparently. Well she was making her way to table, that blue gown so right and fine, and the braid pinned up that way, like a rich crown coiled upon her head.

"Oh," she said, walking delicate, the most beautiful neck…, "that was so long."

Em jumped up and pulled her chair and she thanked him and sat. Edward had a flash of him fornicating with her. What had he been thinking to do such? His own boy knew what she deserved. Lord he hadn't felt such a load of self-hate in a good while. And yet he hoped and prayed to be able to do it again. Only this time…he'd give her all.

Well, he hoped eating at table wouldn't be too much for her today. Fact was…he knew how regular things had to be entered gradually when one had been imprisoned. He figured she'd been in that shanty a long year. He'd seen her spring, then fall, then spring once more and that's when he took her. One year like that…and gauging her dissipation she'd come from good care. Even her clothing, better than most. Better than any round here for sure.

Jasper gave her some tiny food again. Edward knew how his brother liked to pile it on, but he appreciated Jasper not wanting to defeat her.

"Did you catch up on your sleep Edward?" she said sweetly. He nearly sighed hearing his name.

His son was looking at him as he shoveled. Big grin.

Edward nodded and took to eating. He let his hair hang a bit, everyone looking. God Almighty they needed…something.

And here it came, Jasper started about Marie. "My Marie has dark hair," he said, and were Bella not here Edward would have taken his breakfast out on the porch like he did when this one got going. Emmett was chuckling cause he knew. Now Jasper had a whole new set of ears, lovely ones, to fill with his woesome lovesick story. His Marie, his blasted Marie, could be a big hairy man for all he knew, getting his jollies sending a picture of a stern-faced shrew in a black dress sitting prim hands on her lap, wings of hair looped over her ears. Soon as her old mother dies she is coming to Jasper to take her place walking beside…birds chirping and angels playing harps.

"Her ma's been poorly since the war," Jasper was saying.

Well it started at Douglas, one Christmas some packages made it through, caused a riot and most of it trampled in the earth, but this picture survived of Marie and on its back the place to write and his brother carried it then, everyday after, and she did write, he'd give her that. Preacher came through he brought mail if there was some, and often there was, an envelope in Marie's hand. And Jasper beaming like he had just fornicated, but he lived one letter to another, like rocks across the river of his life and he was hopping along to some bliss filled bower.

You can't put your willy in a letter. Edward knew, poetic as he was, he wanted more than a sweetheart wrote missives and made promises. He wanted flesh and blood. And here's the thing, he'd had both from Bella. That first time…he took his willy out to piss on the way home…there was blood on it. It had to come from her for he could see nothing on himself and he had no disease for he'd had no woman but Em's ma years before, and she'd had him more precise. Now women bled. But they bled first time too and if he was first…it didn't make sense. But for him, one way or another, that blood was a gift and a sign. It was holy. She was his.

Jasper often said he, Edward, had the gift of bachelorhood and Edward just looked at him like he was out of his mind. Here's a thing mister know-every-little-thing-so-you-can't-tell-him-nothing didn't know…Edward wanted a wife. And he was looking at her now…Missus Bella.

She was listening about Marie and Jasper was about to piss himself he was so eager to explain it all.

Far as Edward knew, Bella's husband had laid down his husband card. And he, Edward, had taken it up, and he would see about the details…when she was ready to tell it.

Finally Jasper took a breath and Em asked, "Missus Bella…what stage was that?"

She took a bite. Well he'd a kicked Emmett to keep his questions to himself, but it was already out and he was curious as could be.

When she'd swallowed, for his dove would not talk with food flapping like his son just did, she said, "My…mother is the one. She's performed on stage…many years. I…went to school back east but when I finished…," she laid down her fork. There was a tremor in her hand but he'd seen that before, "…I went home to Richmond. And…shortly after...I had taken voice lessons at school…and I…became part of her act. When she fell ill…I stepped up…you could say."

"Dancing?" Em asked, relentless.

She nodded, and took another bite size of a crumb. "This food is so good, Mister Jasper." Well her voice was soft and lovely. Jasper was warming. He looked like a puppy just got a pat on the head. Lord.

Edward thought how Jasper was much handsomer than him for he was a ghost of himself. But he went from fatherhood to war to prison camp and home again and women…they were not a part of any of it…but the obvious. And the obvious was about to shit himself along with his uncle.

She was on the stage. Well he could see it. He was jealous already of all who'd ever watched her perform. He hoped to see that someday, but just him. Well she was too much. Too much for him…for Jasper…for this cove. For Forks. For these mountains. She was for the stage so she could be worshipped. He was ridiculous. To ever have thought she could want more. With him. She had a husband somewhere. Money and power, he already knew. He didn't know if he could kill enough to keep her. Oh, he could. But then…why would she stay? A scarred, gray headed mute with a stump leg?

He got up then, tossed his bib over his plate and went out.

He had not brought his food and he was still hungry so he stood on the porch and did not expect her to follow, yet she did. "If you're sorry you brought me, Mister Edward, I understand. I hope it was alright to tell Emmett about the dancing. I didn't plan it. It just came out."

He turned to her, slowly pulled his hands out of his pockets.

"Whatever you're thinking…you don't have to be stuck with me now. If you could lend me some money for the train…take me there…I'd leave you…I'd never bother you again nor say your name to another. You have been so good…but I don't know…are you going to hold me here? I don't know my situation." Then seeing his face, his dismay she took for anger, "Not that I'm not grateful. But…I wonder what I'm supposed to do now."

He held up his hands, his empty hands. He wouldn't force her to stay. This was not a kidnapping. Didn't she know?

"What a mess I've gotten you in. But it's not too late. You have to get rid of me so let me go down. Someone else could take me to the station…someone not connected to my escape."

He couldn't look in her eyes just now, not feeling all he was. So he stared at that hollow in her throat and the quiver there, and then her breasts which he'd never seen but wanted to, longed to, then her hands clasped against her waist. She wanted to leave. She wanted to leave him. Just like he thought. And he couldn't blame her. But he did.

He shook his head and mouthed, "Where?"

"Where would I go?"

He nodded.

She bit her lips and looked away. Then she said. "West? I'd have to start over."

No. No, no, no, no. He went to her and put his hands on her arms and looked into her eyes. He took her hand and placed it over his heart. He knew he looked hellacious. He knew she probably wanted to scream or run.

She was stuck there, frozen, looking at him. He wanted to know…he wanted to yell out…he wanted to speak. He wanted to speak.

"I…are you saying…you want me to stay?" she asked so soft.

He reached then and moved some errant strands of dark hair behind her ear. He did this so gently. Tears came to her eyes and maybe to his.

He nodded and swallowed the words he couldn't say.

"Alright," she whispered. "For now. Alright. Truth be told…I still feel so weak…."

He took her hand from his heart then and did the shameful thing he knew would haunt, he kissed her wrist, his lips pressed there on her warm, velvet, fluttering pulse. His eyes closed for a moment. When he looked, she studied him, her bottom lip trembling. After a moment she said, "Kindness…." but that's all she could say. She was crying then and he scooped her up and took her into the house.


	10. Chapter 10

Bringing Bella Home 10

Em brought Felix home. Big and surly looking, that was Felix, in the war hellacious and not given to guilt. Preferred animals to folks. And folks preferred animals to him, but he knew horses.

Felix had brought two saddle horses Em had picked out. So first thing after plowing and planting Em wanted to take those over to Rosalie's so they could ride. Now Felix liked Em. Just him. He tolerated Edward and he couldn't abide Jasper, except that time the skin and muscle got tore from his arm and then he put up with him through the healing, but long run it didn't change a thing.

When Felix left he took the two Edward had conveyed needed destroyed. Felix knew they was too fine to put down, and he knew life was just as unfair as it could be.

Edward knew relief when they were took off.

And after church on Sunday, after Edward walked the aisle and Jasper and Emmett waited patient, Em too big now to go with Edward as he did for some years when younger, standing beside his pa and patting his back while he knelt at the altar and let it out, well after, the three of them rode home. Jasper and Em sat the new horses, Edward on Briney.

Edward was quiet, pondering a change in him. It's not that he hadn't craved the altar and cried there some too, it's just…he hadn't craved it as much.

What happened was, he didn't feel the pulling on his legs so strong as usual. Matter of fact, he could of planted his feet in front of the bench and held on…and resisted. That had never happened before. And he didn't need Jasper's handkerchief. His alone had been enough.

So after they got home and put up the horses, they went in the house there. Edward was last, and Missus Bella had the table spread on her own. She had cooked the whole Sunday dinner. Turns out she and Jasper had planned it and Bella had done it and she flashed a look at Edward told him plain as day she had been anxious for him to see it.

Course Edward wasn't that all-fired over Jasper and Missus having a secret, but he wasn't going to be the sourpuss.

So they sat to table, a clean bedsheet for a cloth on top, and a fine mix of colors, taters mashed white, carrots sliced and cooked with bacon, dried peas, stewed lambs quarter, brown gravy and pork, yellow cornbread and her creamy butter. They ate a fine dinner with manners and all and he thought it was the best food he ever had and he kicked Em under the table when he said, "This lambs quarter or cactus leaves?" just cause it was a little too raw yet. But Lord he liked the way she chewed.

Then Em took off to call on Rosalie. Jasper and Missus cleaned up the meal and Edward got out his books and went out on the porch because he couldn't sit there and listen to the two of them going on about bread starters and ticking and remedies for burns and how to treat grub worms. He couldn't listen to one more thing.

And he wondered how it would be to be able to speak with her, to tell her his mind…and his heart. Well he wondered so many things.

And here came Jacob and Esme. He knew the sound of their old wagon 'fore he looked up from his book. And Esme hailed the house and he did stand there and lay down his book. Jacob got down and helped his mother. Then he lifted a pie from a big box in the bed while Esme stood there straightening her shawl.

Edward went to her and helped her up the steps. She was the woman ever graced this place, just her, Em's life saver, and the one succored him while Edward was away those years for the war.

She was looking him over now, Jacob standing there grinning. But she viewed  
Edward head to boot, and her eyes went back to his. She said, "Hmmm," deep in her throat.

She was some older than him and he viewed her as closest to a mother he reckoned, much as Em, though she was somewhere between forty and fifty, he couldn't tell with colored folks, they didn't age the same, and her beauty did not fade much, she did not change much.

He took her arm and led her up the steps and Jacob followed them in the house then. Inside Jasper had his sketches out and Bella was looking through. Well Jasper had made them himself, the sketches of plants and what he'd learned. Esme smiled at this for she was the one helped him learn so much. Well Jasper stood for her, for Esme. Bella rose too, her face uncertain and eager. Jacob shyly sat the pie on the table and grabbed off his hat, holding it over his chest and staring at Bella, his mouth open and Edward itching for a fly to go in there at least.

Well Jasper greeted Esme, kiss on the cheek, and he did make the introductions and Bella was so gracious, a small curtsy for Esme and she held that one's hand, then hands behind her back for Jacob and a nod. Such a lady she was.

Esme was in her Sunday clothes, them usually more bright than he'd a thought for when her shawl was off her dress was red. Jacob pulled the rocker forward for his mother, less near the fire and more to table so she could join in their searching through the sketches. That left Edward with Jacob and what happened there usually was they went to the barn and Jacob and Em would talk over each other while the three of them looked at stock or that new plow they showed last summer. With those two boys it ended some kind of contest, jumping from the mow, arm wrestling, walking the rails on the stalls no-hands touching. Just a mix of deviltry Edward put up with gladly, for Jacob was nearly son to him. It was a trade off. Esme showed Em mother. Edward showed Jacob father. It was that way.

But today Edward had no retreat. Too many times he high-tailed, took himself and his wanting to gawk off to work away the frustration, but this day he got the checkers and put them on the small table near the window and he and Jacob took seats.

Well Jacob liked to add a bet, so he got the button jar and Edward laid the charred pieces out and then Jacob laid his clean ones. "How come you always get the burned?" Jacob asked as if that was the why to Edward's usual victories.

The good thing about being silent, Edward missed out on trying to answer a million pointless questions. But he gave Jacob his eyes to let him know he heard. That's what a boy needed most, to be seen, to be heard, to be recognized. A man craved respect, and this is how he gave it to Em and to Jacob…with his eyes.

He nodded Jacob should go first but truth his eyes and ears were on Bella as usual, even when he didn't look directly, they were pretty much there, like he lassoed her with his attention and he felt her smallest shift. Right now he was held by the fetching way she stood at table, leaned over it pointing to one of the sketches and talking with Esme. Well he got a flash of those other times, her leaning on that table….

"Edward!" It was Jacob and it was so loud everyone glanced at him.

He felt heat in his face. He was getting to it, damn boy. He moved his first piece out and all but huffed. Boy needed to settle himself. It was just a game.

The voices round the table resumed and he tried his best to care about the board. Well in just a few minutes he lost and Jacob was crowing.

But Esme got more out of Bella than he and Jasper ever could in all this time. Edward heard little else but Bella's voice. It stood out like the purest melody. She had said she could live without meat, that she had never enjoyed it. He couldn't believe such. In Douglas, he had craved meat, dreamed of it. And she said she loved hymn singing at church, and he felt such a guilt that he'd not thought of her needs, how she felt being held out of church, but surely…did she attend church…her working the stage? Was it done? He was a horse's ass for not knowing.

How lonely she must be with the likes of him and his, not having enough sense to know the most basic things about her. Him lusting over her, Jasper desperate to have a friend, Em just excited to have something more than him and Jasper, craving a mother in the house was what, though he did not stare at her like she was mother, and that was another thing to regret for her. What a sorry bunch.

He learned her age…twenty. Her favorite color…green. Her birthday…June sixth. She was protected from the war. She grew up in Washington, boarding schools mostly, some with an aunt, her mother's sister. She had no siblings and had not grown up with a father. She was afraid of dogs, she'd once been bitten.

Jacob was fussing at him, fussing away that he wasn't paying attention, that it was his turn to move. And he moved and Jacob jumped him. Twice.

And through the crowing he heard her say...my marriage was in haste. But I have not lived as a wife. Lived as a wife. Lived as a wife. That sentence smoked deep into his brain.

His heart thundered and he moved again and Jacob jumped him again.

Jasper asked, why not?

He wanted to kiss his brother for that.

"My mother was sick," she said. "It interfered."

She changed the subject then, and he could hear her urgent desire to do so. He waited for Jasper to push, to ask more, but he did not. Now, for the first time in his life, his brother had developed hesitation for prying.

He wanted to punch his brother for that.

And it finished with Jasper bringing out his mandolin and Esme and Bella singing, "Amazing Grace." Well…he held the tears, but they turned on him inside and he was so in love with Missus Bella it was a good thing they didn't expect words for if they did he would be found speechless. The best thing he ever did in his life besides bring Em home in that sack was rescue Bella. If that was all…he could only thank God for having had a part.

So he took the new knowledge and that night in the bed as he shoved Em's arm off of his neck and listened to his son mutter Rosalie's name, he mulled over his newly gifted information, and he tried to draw scenarios for each little thing and a hundred new questions were born. One thing, she kept him in a perpetual state of excitement.

So days went by…sunrise, sunset, missed altar calls and Sunday meals, earth plowed deep, seed sewn, birds scouring the mountains for debris for their nests, pining, yearning, and Missus Bella bringing a new kind of joy to the place.

Edward…he couldn't adjust to having her around. It was not a thing a man like him could get used to. She continued to live in his room, and he woke in the morning to Em's breath in his face, or tree trunk of a leg on his own bad limb. Now he'd known worse, and this was nothing in comparison, but he longed to be in his room with her. That was the truth.

Bella discovered a religious zeal for growing vegetables. She found it most fulfilling to pick peas and seemed to adore pumpkin vines…and pumpkins in general. She also favored carrots, or 'the miracle of carrots,' as she was wont to say. And she enjoyed the many herbs Jasper grew coming to life.

Well that brother…he could go on like every night was a quilting bee. Good thing Edward had his many chores to see to for someone had to run this farm.

And lo and behold if Jasper wasn't teaching her to make a shirt. She knew sewing, but had not made men's duds before, and he liked the part where she held the measure stick across his shoulders, the light touches there making his heart beat loud in his ears. If she were to stroke his shoulders, press them where they ached from the plow, he knew he would pass right out.

And it pleased Edward that she sewed on a shirt meant for him at least. Might be he would wear no other once it was finished. Jasper watched over her stitches like a school marm. He needed to gather that wild curly hair of his. Edward was sure glad he never got that from his mother, but took after his pa, board straight. But his brother needed to put those ringlets atop his head in one of those buns. He already had the glasses perched on the end of his nose.

Now Jasper was smiling all over the place when she got those stitches right. Ninny.

Then she went and made the same shirt for all three. Hard enough to have any sense of difference amongst them, and now she was dressing them the same. Still, he wore his. He didn't know why. Well he did. She was so damn pleased when he wore it.

One particular evening Edward noticed how Missus Bella's face had filled out some, and a blush was there, not the one she got so fetchingly when she smiled at him, but a bloom of good health these mountains brought.

Well every little thing was new to her. She purely loved the spring house and she took the milk there and Jasper had shown her how to make cheese, and she did love to arrange it nicely in that little house, them always fixed with cold dairy, her making butter three times a week…when she wasn't in the garden…or sewing…or cooking…or gathering something. And singing.

He figured it was prisoner mind. He'd had it. You got out you got giddy over the every day. But it sure was fun to witness it. Her.

But then things went too far. What his brother didn't seem to know—Missus Bella Swan of the Richmond stage was not their new hand, their new cookie, or their new house-marm.

Her accomplishments went from handiwork to really hard work. Anything she could do in a chair he didn't mind so much. Plus cooking, that was fine.

But now she was seeing dirt they didn't know they had and pretty soon he'd come in the house and she was on her hands and knees, a rag tied over her head, and singing in the most melodious angelic voice while she scrubbed in that brown dress, it tucked in the waist so the bottom stayed out of her way and her stockinged legs showed in her darling worn shoes, and her little bottom so back and forth lively as she scrubbed…scrubbed …their filth!

It was wrong and sin and common and crude and he hated what his brother was allowing and the redness in her hands as he went to her and tapped her delicate shoulder and squatted there to take her hands and try to convey she must not…she should not…give herself to this drudgery.

But she'd looked at him with such distaste, and then snarled or had a snarl on her lovely features, for he had, God forbid, tracked a little mud over that freshly scrubbed floor. There was no way to hold the outdoors…out doors. Didn't she know?

"Mister Edward," she said, "look what you've done," and he looked at his boots and those tracks, and he'd never thought much of it, how the two were connected, they just swept it out pretty soon…once a week or something…Jasper did…and he wouldn't fuss or he would…but no one would listen anyhow.

Well she had been more sanguine about those murders he'd done than about this floor now. She shooed him out and closed the door after and by damn if he didn't hear her drop the latch. She'd locked him straight out, and when he went to the window there to see what she was up to, she was sweeping his tracks with a furry and shaking her head.

Well what did a fella do now if he couldn't go in his own house to fetch a biscuit or something to hold him until dinner because he'd been working like a mule himself to put the food on this table that kept them all going?

Here came Jasper then, and Edward on the porch feeling…shame maybe…and he thought to himself regarding his bother, 'Save your time, she won't let no one in.' But this was all Jasper's fault anyhow, for working her so hard.

Well Jasper barely paid him mind, kicked off his moccasins, tried the door, saw it was locked, so he knocked and said, "Darlin' it's me," and it wasn't a cow's breath she opened that door right up and said, "Oh I feared you were Edward."

I feared you were Edward? Feared such? It's like his head blew apart hearing that. And Jasper called her Darlin' now? Why he's out slavin'…she was Jasper's darlin'?

Well pardon me, he thought, and he went off the porch and he was so damn mad the heels of his boots were digging pretty deep.

When he got to the barn he held to a gate there and breathed some and his stomach growled. He wanted his biscuit at least, damn it. He'd spent enough years his belly growling and hurting for food and he wasn't going to do it ever again and…what if they were in there now, him with his arms around her and his curly hair and calling her "Darlin'?"

He turned around and stalked back to the house, one time he even ran a little. But when he got to the porch, there were Jasper's shoes, still on that porch. It was that got Jasper inside.

Well, not me, he thought, I ain't nobody's lap puppy. Next I know I'll be barking for my supper.

But he looked at those shoes. Jasper was winning her. He was calling her Darlin'. And he, Edward, was locked out on the porch.

So he dropped awkwardly to the step cause of that damn leg, and he tore off one boot then the other, then he stood up and got his pant legs in order, then he knocked on that door, didn't even try it lest it not open and he look an even bigger fool, he knocked on that door he had made himself, and Jasper opened it.

Jasper looked all the way down him, to his socks. Then he looked past him and saw Edward's boots next to his moccasins. He grinned so big Edward's hands balled tight aching to punch him.

"Well now," Jasper said, a big mixing bowl on his hip. "Look what we got here Missus Bella."

"What's that?" she said from where she scrubbed the hearthstone now…and that was more infuriating than even the floor had been cause that thing was black.

"We got us a dowager took off his boots so he could come on in. Reckon we should let him?"

That was it. Edward pushed past him and he nearly dropped that bowl, and Edward lost his breath thinking what a disaster that would have been cause it was full of batter.

But Jasper was laughing like a donkey, and Bella was grinning as she raised on her knees like a prairie dog might and not an angel born to sing and dance.

He couldn't stand to see what Jasper was doing to her. He went to her and took that rag and helped her onto her feet. "What?" she said softly. "What is it Edward?"

"I think he wants to dance," Jasper said, still laughing, and him the only one cause he was only funny when he wasn't trying to be. Why Edward was secretly laughing at him all the time. All day long in fact.

Edward led her to one of the chairs, and he had to take it down from where it had been turned upside down on the table and he had her sit there and he went for the bear grease and brought that to table, then he knelt there and took the cloth off the jar and took out a fingerfull and took her little hand so red and chapped and he started to rub that on the pad around her thumb, and she jerked her hand back and asked what it was, sniffing at it, her face drawn tight and Jasper said, "Bear grease."

And she gasped a little and cradled the greased hand with the other like she didn't know what to do with it seeing as he'd dipped it in the outhouse or something far as she was concerned. Well, he couldn't do nothing right, and he got on his feet and stood there a minute and she was apologizing, and he was too mortified to be in this room and if he heard so much as a cackle from Jasper that one was going through the window, but wisely he didn't hear a thing, and he turned and stumped out.

Well she came rushing then. Thing was, he had to set on the porch there and get his boots back on, and that was for nothing too, and he was stomping that first foot in and there she was sitting beside him. Well, one boot on, he rested his forearms on his spread knees and let out a breath and looked away from her.

She scooted a bit closer and he could feel the heat. She was killing him with shame and want. "I am beholding," she said.

He looked at her and it held a beat, then he grew so soft inside and let out a breath again and pushed his hair off his face.

"I could cut that for you…your hair," she said softly. "It is a shame to hide such a handsome face."

He looked quick at her expecting she mocked, but she looked sincere and that left him pretty shocked and all. He would argue this, his voice not locked. He was not a bit handsome, and his fingers went to that fat ear and he felt the place it healed thick.

"You could stay right here and I could get the shears," she said. Oh, he understood it now. She saw him same way she saw the house…needing improved. But…she'd have to touch him some if she cut it, and…well he nodded she should get those shears.

Jasper cut all their hair, and he cut Edward's ear more than once so he was never at ease. He did not know if Missus would cut his ear or poke his eye yet here he was taking a chance. He pulled that boot over his bad leg and waited. He could barely stand himself like this, a beggar. He had to be the most sickening fellow ever lived. He wondered if those two he killed ever took Missus Bella. He was glad, so glad they was in that river now, staked through to the bottom and weighted over, their peckers getting ate by fish.

Only God could see them. He was so deep in these thoughts he hadn't heard her return and her light touch on him nearly sent him jumping out of his skin.

"Sorry," she said light as her touch. She handed him a cookie. He could scarce believe how she could read his mind. He nodded thanks and tried not to eat it in one go.

Well, Jasper came out to watch. Now why in hell? He had her to himself so much he didn't want to share the least of her attentions is what. Well now it was so ruined he thought of stalking off. But he wouldn't.

She tugged on his shoulder he should sit straighter so he did. Then he worried his hair was washed enough…it had been a couple days…maybe four. It was thick and mind of its own, like him, Jasper said, and oftentimes he'd find things like straw hiding in there, or a cobweb from the barn, or a June bug. He hoped it offered Missus no surprise.

Well she did comb it out and said it was a shame men got the beautiful hair and there went Jasper flapping how it used to be red and now it was old man's hair since Douglas. He didn't quite say 'old man's hair,' he said silver, but Edward didn't like it anyway.

There was no limit…Jasper's tongue so loose like a shutter barely hanging and flapping all the time. Might as well tell her about the winter it went gray then, in '64, tell her that and how they'd hung him, naked. Oh and by his thumbs. Don't leave that out cause they sure as hell let him know it everyday, aching, throbbing and him making up for it.

But if Jasper did…tell her all that…Edward planned how he'd go for him and finally do that choking he'd envisioned so many times and ways.

Well, she combed it back off his forehead and her little greasy hand followed the comb. Straight back is how she wanted it seemed. And with it all combed and tamed now, she got in front of him, close and her studying him and she made that first cut even with his jaw and she moved round him until he had to close his eyes or grab hold of her and bring her onto his lap where he could just hold her like he longed to do. So he sat on his hands and licked over his lips hoping to find some crumbs from the best cookie he ever ate in his life.

She kept clipping it off, and her hand on his head felt like the preacher did to loosen his tongue, but so much more satisfying, her hand, and he ceased hearing what Jasper was going on about, and he could smell the lye soap on her from all the cleaning, and the bear grease on her hand she'd found so distasteful, and that smell of her, her hair and skin is all he could say and it led to other thoughts and he had to fight not to fidget and let some of it out and be just as addled as Jasper was, but that one had words and words and he had never talked so much in all the years Edward had known him, and he realized then, his brother had the same pent up feeling he did, and this was not a competition to win Missus just in case he didn't know, for Missus…was his.

About that time she said he could open his eyes now, she was done and she made Jasper agree that Edward was the most handsome man. And Jasper snickered some and Edward knew he wasn't the most handsome man, but that didn't give Jasper permission to snicker.

Then she asked Jasper if he wanted to be next and that one said yes, and Edward was ready to burst. So he stood up and put his hand on his brother's chest and shook his head and pointed that one needed to get himself back in the house.

He could see Jasper didn't like it and was going to argue, but he pointed again, to the door, and Jasper gave him a glare and said, "Thank you Missus. I'll just be inside when he's…." then he flapped his hand at Edward like he was the most impossible thing, and he went in.

Edward gestured Bella should sit on the bench at the end of the porch there and he followed her and sat. He took a big breath.

"Edward," she said first, her still holding the shears, "how did you get that scar around your eye? Was that in the war?"

He got it from a bottle meant to put his eye out. He put up his hand then pointed at her. He wanted her to speak, to tell him something he needed to hear. It was time…he hoped.

Well, her hands were folded, the shears pointing upward in her clasped hands and this made him nervous so he took those shears and she gave them up, and he set them on the nearby porch railing. Then he gave her his full attention.

"You're asking about my…husband."

He nodded, only once, for she knew and he did not feel the need to keep pressing it.

She put her fetching hair behind her lovely ears and flashed her beautiful eyes at him and licked her mind melting lips and she sat a little straighter and said, "There was a question on my marriage. It was so volatile in nature…my husband sent me away."

She flashed him a look. She was lying. And she was good enough to sprinkle it with some truth. He just had to figure which was which and that was too much work.

He stared at her. She cleared her throat. "Alright…I ran away. Because he was going to send me away. Because the complication…the question on my marriage was…terrible…and he wasn't going to let me go…and I ran away and his…brother found me. And him and that other one…those two…they were in trouble with the law and they had to go away…so they took me, too."

Her hands were trembling again. Other than that she was trying to be brave.

He just kept staring, with his new hair and his old scar. He may have had his wanger in there, but he did not know her, not nearly.

She looked at him, but it was calculating. She was trying to figure if he was mollified.

He was waiting patient.

"I know you wonder if he'll come for me, but with his brother not…here to send word…even if he were to send men to Forks…or come himself, which is highly doubtful…he would have no way of knowing where I was. Far as he knows…." She smiled at him, but her eyes showed fear and something…sadness…deep.

Did she love that husband? That was what he ached to know.

He held out his hands, palms up, asking why. Why was she sent away?

She licked over her sweet lips. She looked at him plenty, but didn't hold his gaze before she looked off, writing the words there, trying them out before she said them.

"There was a question…on the validity…a question was posed…was our marriage legal? While he was trying to defend that…I left. In the night. Problem was…his brother and the other one…were on the train. They were also fleeing. They realized I did not have Charles Swan's permission to be fleeing…and they took advantage."

Edward ground his teeth together. They made her whore for them? Well…whores usually had a money man behind them. He had no one to blame but himself for using a woman…and this woman…no one to blame. He'd taken her…and left her there. Why didn't she tell him? Why didn't she beg him for help? He'd of done anything to get her out of there. Lord, God he'd left her there for a year. She'd been suffering for a whole year because he was a donkey's behind…worse a donkey's shit…that's what he was.

Well he couldn't stand it and he jumped off that bench and scared her some and he paced and took one of Jasper's pots of just sprouting flowers and heaved it into the yard where it broke into a pile. Then he grabbed one of the chairs and threw it out there and it broke into sticks. He was looking for more…something else…and she was yelling his name, then hanging on his arm. He felt wild with anger. Wild with sorrow. Why didn't she tell him? She was beside him crying and saying his name over and over, that it wasn't his fault, no way he could have known, but he didn't know, not enough. He wanted every jot and tittle, every one to go over and over and over. She had to tell him, and he grabbed her by the arms and searched her face, he didn't want her lies, her wiley way of handling men, she didn't need that with him, he didn't need that from her, he just wanted the truth, the truth. And she looked scared. He was scaring her, and Jasper had come out, and he was prying Edward's hands off her arms, and Edward didn't resist because he'd been holding her too tight, but it wasn't to hurt her…he was sorry…so sorry.


	11. Chapter 11

Bringing Bella Home 11

He went a little bit crazy then. The thought of it…the black truth of it…. And all the sorrow that had been in him, all the regret from those years and him giving it over…setting it down, week after week…all that weeping.

It was over now. It was all for naught. He wanted the pain…he wanted the rage. He sipped whiskey now and Jasper said, "What are you doing?" and he did say in his mind, Go straight to hell you rag buyer's wife.

He did not care. He didn't wash, he didn't sleep in the house. He couldn't look at Bella. He wouldn't look at Jasper, and Em would come get him or hang about like a puppy as he slammed around, dog on the heap and scrappy about it.

He wouldn't wear the shirt she made. It made him cry. He wouldn't eat at table. It made him sick. He wouldn't let her talk to him, walk with him, bring him a cookie. He nearly ran the other way when he saw her approach.

He did not comb his hair.

It culminated one moonlit night, him sipping from the jar. Rode Briney down where he thought he put those bodies, those two who whored her out.

He needed to go back under the water and find those ones, scalp them, stick them through, rip off their heads. He'd killed them too quick. He hadn't known. There'd been no time to know. They'd come on him and him with no surrender.

Well she got under the fence but there was no one to blame but him, his weakness that would take another…her so innocent…a dove…an angel…and him…rutting his ugly animal self….

Why did God let him live? He'd nearly killed him so many times…the Almighty did. Why did he stay His hand? Just do it, Edward raged in his mind. Just do it, and he threw that jar against the rocks.

So here he was in that water, that cold rush. He was diving in there by that place, that bend and stand of pines down, and the current kept taking him off, nearly drowning him, but he didn't care. He'd climb out, stump up that bank and go again.

He could not find those two. It was too dark, he was too drunk, he couldn't hold his breath enough, he was so mad he took to standing in that current slapping at the water, beating it with his fists. Then he lost his knife, the one Felix got made for him. He was so mad he screamed.

He screamed twice more. Then again.

It sobered him. Sound in the air…an awful hellish echo…but his…sound like an angry sky. He thought, that's me, by God that's my insides let out.

He stumbled some in that water, but got his footing back. He put his hand there, on his throat, and he tried to make a sound. And nothing. Then he tried to scream again, and he couldn't no more…just the silent strangling. Well what was the matter with him?

He knew when it happened, when his sounds got whittled away…he knew how maybe…he knew why maybe…and his hands went to those pits in his neck…but still? Still? Seven, eight years after and nothing?

He thought on it…Douglas. He didn't let himself go there but for Sunday…for the preacher had the weapons Scripture said could demolish strongholds…and Douglas was a stronghold in his mind.

If you wore the collar and didn't stand straight…it dug in. And what he knew after two hours…if you stood quiet…it didn't barb into your neck so much. The Yank guards wanted them quiet cause that meant defeat. But it wasn't defeat when it became your battle plan. The bible said…once you done all you could…stand. And he was standing. That's what they didn't know. He was through talking. Through screaming. He was standing. And he did. Three days wearing just a sack. And yonder…Jasper…stradling that beam raised six feet in the air. Sitting there just as long and crying for their mother.

But anytime Jasper looked at him…he stood there tall and silent. And Jasper would quiet some for a time. And they lived.

That was years back, but it was still too close, right there yet. So he climbed out of the river and onto the bank there and fell hard, panting, and feeling like he'd bled…or thrown up, or gone naked at the church.

And that's where morning found him. He thought those birds woke him, cawing loudly…black in that rumbling gray sky. He'd made noise last night. Had he? He thought it was true.

But Emmett was there, and his horse had licked Edward's face. Well hardy-har. Em was riding one of those new…not so new…name of Jack. "Hey Pa," Em said grinning but he couldn't hold it, didn't mean it. He'd been worried.

Em caught Briney for him and they rode home. The boy did not try to plug the mood with chatter. He was too shook. For all they knew, Edward was in the river. For all they knew he was going to hell and not coming back. He had no cause to worry Em after promising after the war he'd always be there and he wouldn't go away no more.

Here's what he knew. He'd buried his voice. They couldn't have it. They couldn't have his words or his stories. It was all he had left. And he'd buried it inside cause they couldn't have it. And then it got so deep, deep down, he couldn't pull them out again…his words.

And now he'd added hers on the pile, Bella's words. And it was just enough to make him feel an explosion coming. He couldn't hold anymore. He…was…full…up.


	12. Chapter 12

Bringing Bella Home 12

Being a father always brought him back…a sign in the road, come back to this. Jasper. The cove. Now her. Much as he wanted to run away, it was running towards these where his answer lay. He knew.

He'd wasted time. He had work in the field, and he started there. Em had kept it neat and tidy, the farm, and he picked right up and did his share, no matter his feelings, cultivating those beans, straps in his hands, grit in his teeth, buzz in his ear from the flying things, light in his eyes, sweat on his neck, and the creak and groan of machine, of beast, of his own longing.

Then he took a dunk in the creek that evening and combed his hair and went in without his boots on. They was eating there and they stopped and stared. He gulped loud in his ears.

They'd set him a plate this whole time probably while he'd been reprobate and insane…Jasper not able to break routine…but maybe her, too.

And all he felt…was something big, something ready…this was his whole world sitting here, God only gave a man a part and had him tend it. Well he was trying. When he approached…it was not unlike his many Sunday walks along the aisle. But they didn't need his tears. And he didn't either. So he looked away, and went to his pile of clothes.

His clothes were moved out by Em's bed and put in a basket. He was aware things were different…better. He dug in the basket, careful of the order, and got what he needed and went in Jasper's room and reformed himself.

The shirt was the one she'd sewed. He held it to his face, but no that wouldn't do. He put it on quick. Then he let out a breath and got his insides calmed some.

He still had the whiskers, but he'd level them tomorrow. He could only do so much when his heart was ground to powder.

In the big room, he sat at table there and he could barely stand it and if they said a word he would…but they did not, but her big brown eyes were on him sometimes, he knew that and after he'd eaten a couple of bites and his stomach allowed it, he looked at her some and when they looked same time he about fell off the chair it was so strong…what he felt. All from him he reckoned.

So he moved more food than he ate. He was not a waster, not of a crumb, but he could not take a normal plate full in, so he figured he would just set his in the spring house and eat it come morning.

And he noticed on the way out how his books were arranged on a little table by his side of the bed, waiting for him to come back, then he thought of her…she had to do that…and he wondered he'd worried her…low down as he was.

She followed him outside, her carrying the butter from supper, and him his plate, and she held it while he sat and pulled on his boots, for there was a cat, and he took that plate back, and she led, and he followed, and they did not speak, and of course he could not but if feelings were words he'd be shouting. Not good shouting. Maybe horrible.

At the spring house he stood back and let her take his plate in with the butter because she liked it a certain way.

When she came out she asked if he would walk with her a spell.

He sucked in his breath. He wanted nothing more and feared nothing more. She must know he had strong reactions to her. Surely she'd noticed his mood these past two weeks. Well she had.

So they walked and Em's dogs came out of the woods from running, and they came up, tongues hanging, breath and tails pumping, blood on their muzzles and bibs, but they were trained not to jump. There were six and he sold these sometime, not these six…but others.

But she didn't know and she feared dogs, and she stepped behind him and grabbed onto him and he sent those dogs on to the house pointing and waving, for Em to put up, and they went on.

She sighed then, but she did not let go. He felt her head against him, the nerves in her grip. "Edward," she said. "You went away. And I could not sleep…knowing. It was reckoning for me."

He had not gone anywhere but to the river. He'd been right on the place just like always.

But against his back, she felt…right and he did not want her to pull away.

"Jasper said to leave you be, and I did. I have become fearful of men's tempers. But not of you…no…with you…I am safe."

How could she think such of him? Had she no sound judgment on folks? He was not an outstanding man. Those others had been so foul he looked a saint by compare but put him against an exemplary man…one like his brother…one like his son…and he was shit on her shoe.

Well, he feared she would say more and he was desperate to hear it at the same time. Good book said with much knowledge came much pain, and it always was that way.

So she let go and came round him and he just stared at her, and he caught his jaw working, and he made it stop because that looked addled and simple and he was not addled or simple.

So they walked some more and him tied tight and she took his hand and said, "Where can we go to speak of matters?"

And he did look at her, at her hand twined in his. Well this was the first move she'd made toward him in his book. He hoped she meant it for he had plenty to show. So holding her hand both gentle and eager he took the lead.

He walked her out to the barn where they stored most the hay. He helped her up that ladder led to the loft and he followed. Sun was dipping so it was getting dark in here, but he took her over by the open door and they could sit there if she weren't afraid up high, and she didn't appear to be for he sat first and dangled his legs and offered his hand and she gathered her skirts above her knees and drawers and stockings and slender ankles on show she sat beside, that skirt bunched in her lap and it made her look so young and trusting. He wanted her trust. She didn't know how much, couldn't tell way he'd behaved, but it mattered.

Well it was pretty up here overlooking the field. Deer fed under the trees. And a breeze and orange in the sky. Well he could be in hellfire with her…darn near had been…and it'd be fine. But this…this was paradise.

He took her hand again. Reached right into that bundle of skirt and fished it out and held it in his. It was getting the feel of a hill woman's hand and he was sorry, but he loved her. That's all.

"I will tell you then," she said.

He waited.

"I know you want something from me. Maybe you have some idea I'll stay forever and be with you."

He looked at her, his look hot as a hickory fire he knew.

"I been used the last few years. And it's twisted something in me. I'm not the innocent you and all of them want to think…all of those men throwing roses at my feet while I sang. I'm about tired of those faces looking at me wanting something…even after all this time. I never wanted such a life. It just made me feel more private to the point I didn't want to come out of my room. And I didn't most days.

"I was shut up to those three…Charles and James and Victor Swan. Mostly, it was Charles against those other two. My mother and Charles had usually opposed them…ruled the roost. When she got sick Charles hoped to put me in her slot and carry on. I'm not stupid. I figured they'd had a love affair, though Mother was very French in her approach to life. Her friend Phillip Dwyer is still watching over her in North Carolina. That's if…."

"Anyway…James and Charles fought each other for me…but you have to understand it's about money. My mother…Renee…she owned part of that theatre. They were all trying to cheat her out of it…get hitched to me…the heir, in case she died. That's why I was brought in…to earn…to keep earning…and to marry one of them in the hopes that with my share they'd become more powerful over the other two.

"Problem is…one of them fathered me and now it's out and they're trying to use it against each other to gain power. James shows Charles my father, he plans to marry me, gain Renee's holdings and the new star. Spin that wheel three times…well two now with Victor dead…and you've got my life.

"They are fighting it out back in Richmond. I'm stuck here until the dust settles. When it does…it will take time…but eventually trouble will follow. Victor and Laurent kept in touch back there and sometimes I thought they worked for one or the other…maybe both…maybe just themselves, because those two…well you don't want to know but you've been to war, around a lot of men, so you know how men can be." She stared at him, her brows raised and he divulged nothing, but yes, he knew.

"Those in Richmond don't know I'm with you. And I said I'd stay for now. But you need to know…I won't let you and Jasper and Emmett die for me. Men have died for me. Not just the two you had to kill. Don't you see?

"And I can't…I can't feel love. It's like…I turned that off so I could survive. Maybe I never had it. But if there was a man…first one I can actually respect…it's you. Jasper is fine, and Em's good. But you…there's a possibility first time in my life…it's more. I can imagine it at least…always could with you…I don't know why for there have been so many throwing themselves at me," she shook her head.

Edward was able to keep up. All that mattered was that she felt something for him. If she didn't know love before, stood to reason she couldn't describe it. Cause she didn't know.

She got on her feet then and he did too, but she led him across the floor and he sat in the hay there, and she backed away, nimble more than he knew, and she unbuttoned her brown dress and he did not argue, but he was hardly expecting such, but she did that smiling nervous then coy at him and he was conflicted thinking of all those looking at her, hundreds of faces upturned and speculating on her. But Lord God as she opened that dress before him and stepped out of it, well a corset pulling her tinyness in narrow at the waist, then the swell of her above and below, delicate swells, creamy breasts atop a corset and chemise, hips just perfectly round below and a petticoat with a ruffle and her stockings and drawers, for once she peeled the dress and dropped it she was all in that white and she kicked off the shoes, too, and she lifted her petticoats and there was no end to the lovely came from her, and backdropped by the evening sky out the mow, she danced and sang some and he had to remember to shut his mouth for he had never seen such.

When she was finished she curtsied, then went into a dialogue and pranced like a butterfly, her arms bare and butter soft looking as she raised her hands and orated, and curtsied once again and he came to life and clapped like his own kind of thunder.

"I just took off my dress so you would know how I was dressed before them. And I'd work my fan and look all modest and demure." And she pantomimed that, and danced some more and sang, and he could scarce understand how her movements called to him so strongly, the jiggle in the tops of her breasts, he understood that, the sway of her hips, he understood that, and her born to be admired. He knew that. But he wanted no other eyes on her. But how could he expect to own her? She could not be owned.

"So you see how I've given myself? I showed flesh just like this. It changes your feelings. You're more special than you've a right to be but you know it's not for any inner character you possess and to be a person of worth…to have someone you can love and deserve to be loved by…you need more than bare shoulders and stockings tight around dainty ankles, more than a warbling voice. You need a pure heart. And if that were on the outside for all the world…if heart was my face…I fear I would be ugly then…or very plain at best, evil…foul…scheming."

He couldn't stand her hatred of herself and he got on his feet fixing to walk toward her. Now the open mow grew closer to her back as she stepped back from him.

"Don't. I need to say this. I need to prepare you at least. Your scars are nothing compared to me on the inside. Your scars are more beautiful for what you've suffered and gone through. But me…I'm a snarling tiger in myself, too long in the cage and ready to claw."

He shook his head once or twice, but he didn't like how close she was to the mow. So he stopped his approach, but still she stepped back more…and fell right out of that high door.

She screamed on the way down and he rushed to look. Down below she was on her back, one arm bent at the elbow, her legs wide, her in her undergarments, her hair fanned up, and her looking up at him. She'd landed on a deep bed of hay they'd piled there from the cutting going on all that week. She was still trying to realize she was fine.

"I…," she had her arms out straight, her palms against the straw. "I…I'm alive, Edward," she did say, and his hand went over his mouth, then he took a big leap and landed on the pile beside her. Well, it was risky, but he figured he owed her seeing he couldn't shout in time to warn her. He'd made this jump before, of course, and Em…too many times to count over the years, but when she'd fallen like that he almost lost his mind forgetting this softness had not yet been hauled to the mow.

So he crawled his way to her, slipping and sliding and crunching and sinking in that hay. She still lay there and he helped her rise and ran his hand over her back, Lord, God.

Then she said this, like there had barely been a break in their parley, "I let you in those times. You were my only one. It's all I had…my virginity. But I gave that to you and…I'm so glad it was you."

And he did put his arms around her then and pull her close and they laid like that, her atop him, him holding her fierce, and in time she slept and he did some, until Jasper came, all the yelling, sun barely lighting the sky, calling out Jasper was, first for him, then for Bella, and he eased her off and she was stirring and Edward sat up and let his brother discover him finally, and Jasper climbed toward them some waving a paper. "Edward, brother, Em just got in with this letter. Lord of glory you got to listen to me. Marie done wrote me. She's coming to see me. After all this time…she's coming to be my bride."

Well…he reckoned Marie was real afterall. But another thing under that did not make him smile. What was Em doing out all night without a by you leave? He looked at Bella, there next to him tucked in that hay, her dress far away in the mow. Things were sure changing around here.


	13. Chapter 13

A gift (I hope) to say thank you for so much love. I read all of your words.

Bringing Bella Home 13

Well, he wasn't speaking to Emmett. Now that might sound funny for such as him, but it was not. Not speaking was as clear for him and his son as for any other men.

Here is how it went, Em tried to speak to him that day he brought the missive home from Marie, and Edward would not look at him and Em had gone off and worked twice as hard which was pretty hard, but still Edward would not look at him for he was bent on putting a bairn in that one, that Rosalie, and her pa was no account and he would like Em at the tail of his shotgun knowing all the while it was what he hoped, what he'd been shoving that daughter at him for from the day she started to bleed and grew those breasts for…breeding. And Em, dumb fool he was, couldn't wait to sign up and mix their blood.

So after supper, when Bella had her idea Edward should have some lessons in elocution, he was in no frame to be so open sitting there like a fool pretty much in a party for tea sippers or some such, the smell of lye soap so strong on Bella and Jasper and if he found their cleaning rituals bizarre before now…it was plumb ridiculous since that letter.

So Bella was going to get him talking. Improving him now they run out of fo-fa-roils for the house. So here he sat wearing his shirt, and now there was flowers on it, little ones sewn in bright thread along the collar made by his lovely. So he was sitting in her garden now…and not sorry, but these lessons. She figured she'd taken all those singing lessons and they'd taught her about breath so now she was teaching him, and Lord from the tomb to glory her hand was right there above it and Jasper and Em looking on, Em turning bright red under his hand holding in those laughs, and Jasper the biggest grin of terror for him, cause he was most likely figuring if he was in such a fix with his fairy tale woman Marie…well he was pitying Edward.

So he sat and she stood beside him and she was bent over him and her hand there, belly breathing she called it, right there, the other on his chest. He hadn't been listening just feeling…or being felt for he sat on his hands as usual to keep them from wandering like Em's dogs.

So she was saying to breathe all the way down and his breaths were picking up if she'd notice and not be fondling him this way.

"Breathe, breathe," she instructed, watching him pull in his air, his chest ready to burst, her so close her eyes on his nose like she was measuring what he took in, and him ready to cough that soap was so strong in here, but her there and….

"Now let it out," and he did, "slow, slow. Slow!" she demanded. And he slowed.

Then she pushed harder on his area by the belt there, and she said, "Did you feel it?"

Em got up sudden, a strangled laugh and out he went. Jasper stood and gathered plates, shaking his head when he got to the pan, and muttering to himself.

Edward looked at her now, his eyes popping at her he knew. She was talking but he was stuck looking at those red lips and little white teeth there and her face, her eyes and that hair.

"Edward!" she said. "Breathe in."

Well she was a spunky teacher, pretty much to be feared if he was given and he wasn't, but he was. He didn't know. Her pressing on his belly, she needed to stop it now, and he pushed her away and stood. She was so surprised and ready to fight him to get him back in that chair.

But for all she claimed she knew of men…she did not know this man.

She clapped her hands before her and he saw how red. "If you'd learn to control your breathing it would relax your neck and shoulders and just imagine…don't you have something you'd love to say?"

Well he did. He wanted to tell her he loved her and he wanted to ask her to marry him.

So they stared a bit, and he heard the back screen slap from Jasper going out.

Edward walked to her then, close, so close, letting his eyes burn at her some, look over her face. She tried to look all marmish and exasperated, but she wasn't. He was moving her…inside…in the place she claimed she was ugly. And he thought, take that then. And her breath hitched and he could see that warble in her throat…and lips. She felt more than she said. For all her words.

And he stepped to the chair and sat and looked at her waiting. And she cleared her throat. And lightly she put her hand on his shoulder, then took his own hand and pressed it on his stomach, her hand atop.

And their lesson commenced.


	14. Chapter 14

Bringing Bella Home 14

Here's what she said a few nights later when him and Em were speaking again and Jasper had moved to the attic and made his room a sweet bower for Marie. Bella was showing Jasper how to dance. Much as Edward grumbled in his mind when she made him her pupil…he wanted to be her pupil again. He liked seeing Jasper trip over his feet and have a good time, he liked that, but Edward was sorry for himself came to her. He always wanted her to himself. It was fact.

But she said this to Jasper and him, "My mother…she was on the stage…all my life. I don't suppose you heard of her… Renee Dubois the Rose of Richmond?" She looked around at him and Jasper and Emmett. Em was polishing his boots and looked up just stuck that she could be so famous, her and her ma.

"Well," Bella said as she pushed Jasper around and her skirts did move fetching, "Mother was…she was famous during the war. Made enough money to send me off to school…and keep me there. Well…fancy schools, but not very good. But when you're the bell of the ball the last thing you need is a daughter…a thorn on the rose and all. My aunt Jane, her sister…she was jealous of Renee, much as she depended on her generosity. So when the money stopped…my aunt was anxious to be shod of me. She had hoped to marry me off…but I was not pursued…."

Well Edward could scarce believe that. And she was watching Jasper's feet and he couldn't blame her for they were sizeable and he'd already smashed her little toes right through her slippers. But you couldn't blame him, straddling that beam back in Douglas those days and the buckets of sand tied to his feet that last day. Well he had the ankles and Edward had the thumbs and they were barely a whole man between them sometimes.

"Mother got the consumption about the time my pretty useless education was coming to an end," she went on to explain to Jasper and Em mostly, but her eyes shot Edward's way regular. He knew some of this, but he wanted her to go over it and over it for he tended to rethink every little word she said.

"The remedy for her ailment was complete rest, of course. And since her home was over the saloon…or theatre as she called it…she could not recuperate there," then she told Jasper gentle, "…with your left, your left, that's it," and back to them all, "it was believed that North Carolina was the place for the cure. And the private sanitoriums were expensive. So her manager, Charles Swan or Uncle Charles as I called him most my life, made me the offer taking Mother's place. I am retiring by nature…and the thought of following in Mother's silk shoes…terrified me. He convinced me there was no other way and he started me gradually."

Jasper had stopped moving and she was just talking now. Well Edward knew Jasper was tender about suffering if he cared for the one felt the pain. He could tell by Jasper's stance he was taking this way in.

"To go from my sheltered life to the bawdy life…I can not tell you the upset. I soon realized that to stay close to Charles was rudimentary to survival."

She let Jasper go then and they went to the table and sat with Edward and Em. Edward practiced that breathing to keep his jealousy at bay and Em asked Bella to explain 'rudimentary,' which she did.

Then she said, "Important men came. They requested my company. James, Charles' middle brother, was inclined to force me to sit at table and pour drinks. Charles took umbrage. But James fought with Charles over this. So I began to draw closer to Charles. Seeing I made myself sick with distress, he offered marriage. He said if we married I would be protected. The more I experienced the life, the more sense it made. He was kind to me. He'd been kind to my mother far as I knew. And James…I didn't like his advances. He grew more and more bold…."

Emmett looked ready to dislocate his jaw his chin had dropped so far and Edward wanted to kill James, but Jasper had his hands on the table and his brow was bunched.

"Charles became my only friend. If you could call him such. He became patient with me. He took me on long drives in the country and I began to lose some of my loneliness. And he sent my earnings to the sanitorium. He saw to my mother…and he saw to my keep and care."

She started to smooth her skirts over her legs but Edward tapped her arm. He wanted her to tell it. All of it now.

"The question on my marriage came right after. At the wedding party in fact. We were gathered there, so many congratulating Charles. It was Phillip Dwyer, a friend of Mother's, her solicitor and….. He stood on the table…near the cake and punch there…and he held a paper in his hand…in his raised fist…and he shouted, "This marriage is a gross immorality," she said this imitating a terrible voice. "Renee Dubois has filed a petition against Charles Swan for marrying his…well forgive me Emmett, I've gotten carried away."

"His what, Missus? I won't tell a soul…but what is the…um gross thing?" Emmett practically begged.

Bella was turned away from Edward, her pulse beating in her white throat for she pushed the heavy hair over her shoulder and he saw it.

He waited for her to face him. He knew she had no where to go.

Finally she looked at their joined hands. "Charles claimed it was a lie…said he'd fight it…and he has…and he's bought the judges who'd stand in his way. It was, I am sure, the biggest story in an otherwise dull year. I'm sure it sold many papers and was decried from pulpits all over Richmond."

"Missus Bella," Em said, "if you don't want to say…I guess I'll live…but what in the world are you doing in these mountains with the likes of us? You're…too important to be scrubbing our drawers, Ma'am." Then he looked at Edward, "Pa we got to do something!"

"Your father has already been my champion," she whispered looking Edward's way, her face flushed and his too for sure.

"Far as I know the fight continues. Charles is a scoundrel. They are all…scoundrels. He has bilked Mother out of her money. And as it turns out…is right this minute bilking me out of mine.

"I was held prisoner in Forks and I did try to escape…and I nearly made it. They watched me closer after that.

"Then…you came again," her eyes on Edward and him tensing. She couldn't speak of it in front of Jasper and Emmett.

But he longed to touch a lock of her hair. She had the top tied back but the rest hung in long waves over her shoulders and back. She was so lovely, and appeared so young. This beauty belied her troubles.

But she was talking just to him. He knew it. Her eyes were on him like she forgot the other four big ears were even in the room.

"It was the silence...your silence…made the difference," she said. "I'd…heard so many things…so many twists and turns. But you had no lies to give me…just…kindness."

He didn't want her to leave, to ever think of leaving. He looked and Em and Jasper were gone. Lord it's like they'd disappeared and he hadn't noticed.

He got up then and went to one knee right by her chair and she gasped some. His bad leg hurt like a son of a bitch cause he'd done this too quick, but he ignored it.

He was trying to speak, get it out. Well he couldn't speak regular, it had to come on its own when he least expected it.

"Breathe in," she said, bending and moving her hand to his middle.

He didn't know what it meant, his wanting to speak and not caring how he looked. He had her attention. She had him in her very palm.

"Let out your breath, nice and slow," she said so soft.

He did that.

"Keep it that way," she said, as her eyes fixed on his mouth. "Breathe against my hand," she pressed against his stomach, "fill your lungs up…all the way to my hand. So he did that yet again, and she had him let it out slow again. And after a couple more of those she said, "I'm going to hum, so softly as you let out that breath. If you want, you can think you're humming with me."

So she did that, a few times, and she hummed so sweet and low, and she was looking in his eyes after a minute, and he imagined he hummed with her, and she did say, "Hum," only she sang it more like and drew it out as he was releasing his breath. And just like that he moved quick and pressed his lips against hers, and the feeling of it…so powerful. He had to pull back and breathe some more, but it was quick now and ragged.

She took his face in her hands and looked deep in his eyes, deep in and she whispered, "I would go through it all again if that's what it took to know you."

He made a sound, little more than a breath, but he forgot he couldn't speak he was so filled with love.

She pressed her lips on his once more. He could not get over the feel of it. He started to move past just the feel to the understanding of her lips, their size, their shape, the where, and how they were sealed on his. And her face, which he stroked around her mouth, then her throat, that hollow, that frail beat there under his thumb.

When she pulled back she was crying now. "I did not know he was my father."

He put his lips against hers again, as much to stop this confession as to want their warmth once more. He quickly moved from her lips to her face, kissing over her skin, even her eyes, and the soft there oh God, and wrapping her deep as he could with himself, so tangled were they.

He patted her, he rocked her, letting her know with all he had it mattered naught. She was here now. She was his. For the love had been the thing ready to turn on him. And now he…he…had given her space in himself for he was declaring with everything he had…full sail…come what may. Come what may. Him and her.

Somewhere in there he realized the terrible pain in his knee wasn't the only thing interrupting his sweet time with Bella. Em was saying, "Pa, Pa," about a hundred times.

"Go on," Bella whispered, sounding as reluctant as he felt. He got up slow and turned toward Em.

"S'cuse us Missus Bella," Em said to her, then to Edward, "you need to come out and…talk to Uncle."

He could scarce imagine for what, but he could see it wasn't good and were he a betting man he would not know where to put his money on this. So he smoothed back his hair some and shot her a look, and she gave him a smile made him feel like he could run the paddock or something, and he went out and there was Jasper pacing by the porch looking worried and a hundred years old of a sudden.

He was waving Edward to him and Edward followed as Jasper led them some from the house, and Em stayed back looking worried and Edward waved him to go on cause he knew Em didn't like to see Jasper frazzled.

When they were out by the lines for hanging clothes Jasper turned to him, and holding to the wooden pole he'd set himself for the wash days Jasper said, "I can't do it, Edward. It's been comin' on me ever since her letter come. I can't let Marie come here."

Edward figured in his head, they had maybe one week…or really any time this woman would show. This is all Jasper lived for and now…what in the hell?

"Don't look at me like that."

Edward wiped a hand down his face like he was wiping off his features.

"I mean it. You don't know what I feel!"

Oh Lord, he never did, according to Jasper. But this was cold feet is all. Last call jitters. It was too late for such.

He stepped close and patted Jasper's always thin shoulder.

Jasper knocked his hand off. "No! This ain't me bein' in hysterics! I do not want this woman!"

Edward just kept staring cause he knew it was all coming out.

"I don't know…I'm set in my row…I got my funny times…I like it quiet…I don't want to share my bed…or my life. I…what if she expects…she's going to expect things. I don't know her. I got no time for this. I don't want her close. I don't crave it. I don't want to travel. I don't leave the mountain. I don't leave the cove. I don't barely leave the house. Somedays the barn don't seem friendly. I don't want no one askin' me…trying to fix me…work on me…strip off my clothes and stake me to the ground and spit on me…."

Okay, now he was at Douglas, Edward thought. He put up his hand Jasper needed to stop.

Jasper shook his head and though the evening was cool he had beads of sweat on his brow. These were Jasper's peculiars. He didn't even realize Jasper knew these things about himself. They did not discuss such, not ever. It just was. They were alive and that was the big matter. For them.

"Edward…you've got to go to town and get word to Marie to stay home. I…I liked the letters. But…not the real…woman. I…it went too far. I can't do it. I'm telling you I can't do this." He was crying now. Not boo-hoo yet, but the shiny eyes and he was wiping with his knuckles.

But he liked Bella. He was a different man with Bella around, smiling, laughing, like he was happy to wake up every morning. Whistling. Showing all his sketches and sharing all his knowledge, cooking with her, sewing with her. Cleaning with her. Lord a mercy, was he in love with Bella? He almost wished it was so over this other, this fear. He knew how bad fear could get ahold of Jasper. He knew how dark it could get. He nearly hoped it was Bella in the way. Cause Jasper went off babbling to himself…the way he come home from Douglas…it took a goodly piece to get him back and he had no proclivity to watch him go through that dark maze again.

He took hold of Jasper's arm and looked him in the eye. He was telling him he'd help him through like always. He was a good man. The best man ever. If not for Jasper he couldn't of made it out of Douglas and raising Em? Don't even try.

He held Jasper's arm though that one wanted free. "Edward," Jasper said desperate, "my pecker don't even work no more."

Now that did give Edward pause. He didn't know of such. But that Marie…a matron in that picture looked so sour maybe he would not need it.

He hugged Jasper against him and Jasper let him do it some. He patted Jasper's back. They didn't start out this way…hugging. And they hadn't for some time, but there was a day in Douglas, they spent whole winters wrapped together trying to get some heat. And through sick times and times of black fear, times of craziness and loss. There was no more pride between them. They were joined at the hip Edward reckoned. At the heart for sure.

"Will you stop her? Will you stop her?" Jasper repeated crazy.

He continued to pat Jasper's back and wonder what in the hell he was going to do even as he nodded yes, he would stop her.


	15. Chapter 15

Bringing Bella Home 15

Edward was surprised when he turned from holding Jasper to see Bella standing there. She was close to Emmett, but she had moved out in front of him making her way toward him and Jasper one slow step at a time.

Jasper looked away, stood there helpless, there was no where to run, and Edward, hands at his sides, fingers not sure what to do and here she came and he saw her gulp, her lips still red from his kisses and his still rumpled from hers. She looked at him, but past him at Jasper, and he loved her more if possible for the care she had for that one.

"Is this about me?" she said, her voice soft. "I can go down the mountain right now…if you've tired of me and my stories."

"It ain't about you," Jasper called, but he wouldn't look at her.

"About Marie?" she said and Edward couldn't believe she guessed it. How did she know?

"Jasper Cullen…do you fear…yourself?" she said.

Edward watched her. She was casting out a line…just fishing. But Jasper fearing himself…that's what it came down to.

"You've got a case of stage fright," she said.

Edward turned to see Jasper. He looked off to the trees, muttering to himself not wanting to face her. He could go deeper in to this dark cellar just to get out of talking to her. So things was delicate.

"I know all about it," she said drawing closer. "First time they put me on the stage I was only ten. Made me dress like a girl in first primer and sing a duet with my mother. I peed myself, right there on the stage. Mother slipped in it, almost lost her footing. When they figured it out they laughed and I ran off. I wouldn't go back for four years after that."

Jasper stopped muttering and turned to her slow. "Reckon I'm going to do that? Piss myself?" It wasn't unfriendly, it was serious. He had pissed himself on occasion Bella didn't need to hear about…well they both had…and worse…but it couldn't be helped. So Edward didn't trust what would come out of Jasper's mouth now.

She shook her head. "Marie…she's making this trip because she knows what a good man you are Jasper Cullen. She's never met you face to face but you've written your heart all these years. And she must think it worth her while to travel all this way."

"It's not that…not that. I've changed my mind is all. Just…changed it," Jasper said to the trees, nodding his head like they applauded him.

Edward didn't want to look at Bella either now as she heard Jasper's words. He had no consolation to offer either one. Jasper had done nothing but talk of Marie, write her, off smiling to himself over her for close to a decade. After the war, Marie was the reason he tried to get better… "for his Marie," he was wont to say. But now…her on the way he, Edward, was to send her home? Hell, after all this time, Edward felt she was something…Jasper's ghost wife at least.

He didn't know what to do. He really believed if Jasper would just give Marie a chance he would come around. But when he got like this he wouldn't listen.

Edward knew how this might go. He'd give in and say he'd stop Marie, then Jasper would calm down and be relieved for a while and then the failure would set in. And that was a black skid into the core of the earth. And this time he wouldn't have Marie to help pull him out.

Jasper went to his room after. There was no talking to him. Bella walked slowly beside Edward. She looked at him, worry creasing her brow. "Edward…the most sensible thing would be to wait for the train. It would save her this trip up the mountain at least. And his rejection."

That was one likely thing he could do. He reckoned it would go better if Jasper would write a letter he could take. Hearing it from him might be some small consolation. Fact was though…he had to make it convincing or she might not heed such. He wouldn't. Not if he traveled so far and had written so long. He'd make Jasper say it to his face at least. But being a woman, it might be some different. He hoped she didn't cry.

He was comforted that Bella understood. He had no wish to see her troubled, but her willingness to share this burden showed what it might be like were she to share his life in the truest way. He wanted that. This marriage of hers, it was nothing. Abomination at best. He had a growing notion that they were free to marry here and ignore that other evil attempt. If it was upheld then it was an evil they did not need to recognize. He would marry her here, in Tennessee. That life was behind her now. But first he would reckon with Jasper.

So he knocked on Jasper's door, and there was Bella beside holding his mother's bible. Well, Jasper did not invite them in, but he opened the door in spite and stuck his nose in for a look and in the growing paleness of twilight he could see Jasper on the bed. So he went in and held the door for Bella to follow.

He decided to let Bella lead, and she did pull a chair near the bed and she asked Jasper if he'd like her to read some, but he rolled so his back was to her. Well Edward stood beside her, and nudged her she should read. She went through and came to the 23rd Psalm. She read that in her lovely even voice.

He did not stir. She stood then and smoothed his kinky hair some, then she walked around the bed so she could kiss him on the forehead. Edward heard him whisper a thank you. Well that was something.

When Bella went out, Edward found paper in Jasper's writing desk. He brought it to the bed there and held it in front of Jasper's nose pretty much. Jasper's eyes moved enough he looked Edward in the face. Edward nodded, then laid that paper on the bedside table his movements exaggerated to make his point. Jasper stared at him but did not speak. He knew.

So Edward went out and Bella had everything in order. She came to him where he stood looking into the fire and he felt the relief of her hand on his shoulder. She said, "If you go down…she should have some choice. Some say. If she still wants to come…he owes her that in my opinion. If they meet one another…things could change. But letting him pull back like this…it's not the best way."

He knew she wasn't through and he waited.

"I never liked the stage," she said, "…not ever. But I faced it. I always did or the mere notion of it…grew too big."

Edward looked at her and put his hand over hers. He was one with what she'd said, it was his mind, too.

So middle of the night he hitched mules to the wagon. Before he cleared the house here she came running in her petticoat. He held up there and he was ready to spring to the ground and meet her, but she came to that wagon and climbed up just her little bare feet. She about threw herself against him, and she held him tight and soon as she lifted her face he kissed her like they was dancing almost, so in time with each other and she kissed him back and he felt love.

"Edward," she said, pulling back and breathy, "you come back safe and sound, you hear?"

He kissed her again. He liked this…her caring so…telling him what to do.

His lips were learning hers and he moved them on her in the gentlest of ways. She moaned in response and he felt something move in himself, a sound, and out it came, deep and poetic like. He was proud of it even as he took no boast for it had come of its own.

She pulled back and looked at him, her trembling fingers tracing over his lips. "Oh," she whispered. "you spoke to me. It's like music…your voice. Oh…what are you doing to me Edward Cullen? I'm just as scared as Jasper is. Don't you know?"

She'd spoke to him of courage…facing that stage. Well that was training ground for facing this. This love took some guts, he'd admit, and he'd shown them so far carrying her off, killing those men. He wasn't giving half measures and it would take no less from her. He couldn't spare her that, but he'd spend his days showing her she'd chosen right, plagued as he was by the worry that him or these mountains could ever be enough or worse, ever be worthy of such a grace as her.

He knew what he hoped. He'd just let this love in him keep calling…calling her out.

Hardest thing was letting her go, letting her step back and climb down and watch her pick her way back to the house and up the porch to the door. She stopped there though and just when he thought she'd wave, she blew him a kiss instead and his hand went to his cheek for he felt it there, he surely did.

So he left that yard and was a goodly piece away when he come to and wondered how he'd gotten that far for that kiss, all those kisses and words and her sounds and probably his, it had spun him off somewhere else where love was alive and kicking and he could scarce believe how good it felt.

His thoughts widened then. Em would care for the stock and the farm and Bella would see to things running in the house while Jasper was in misery but Edward hoped he'd do more than lie abed. He had people, a family. He was a very rich man.

For hours he traveled. Turned out he did not regret the trip down though he had no inclination to put miles between himself and Bella. But he had wanted to visit Forks and learn of any suspicion over Victor and Laurent. And he had a mission of sorts beyond Marie. So it was nigh on dark when he got to town and first thing he came to was that shanty of hers and it was not empty, but someone was in there, smoke in the chimney, dim light in the window. He knocked and a man answered.

Edward looked past him. There was that table. Edward pointed to it over the man's shoulder.

"I ain't got enough." He thought Edward wanted supper.

Edward pointed again.

"Two nickels then for my plate…what's left on it."

Edward nodded and pushed his way in for that was his concern. He went to table and sat where that one was. That one stood and watched, but Edward could not bring those beans to his mouth for he was reminded of things best forgot, hungry times and something in this fellow. He didn't care to think it out. So he was hunkered over the plate and looked at that one like he took offense.

And that one, old enough to be grandpa, did walk to the corner cupboard and uncorked his jug and while it was over his shoulder Edward pulled his knife and cut through his name on the table there and that one left off with his jug and said, "Hey now," and took a step, and Edward put his hand up that man should stop and he continued to dig out his name on that table and when it was ruined, the man still running at the mouth in protest, Edward stood and sheathed his knife, dug his money, slapped it on that table…once so sweet and sad and illuminating… and he did leave that place behind like a page in a book he never intended to revisit.

And that old one was fussing some while Edward climbed on the wagon and drove into town.

He rode to the station and it was empty this time of night, and he hunkered down near there and laid out his roll in the bed and slept. Come morning soon as that master lifted the window he was listening when the trains would come in and Marie might show.

While he killed time he walked the few stores, had a drink in the saloon and listened. And it was the second day of him being in that camp he'd made that the train showed and two got off.

One, tall and wearing black, a raven of a woman, he reckoned was Marie. Older than Jasper? Bonnet tied under the chin. Stern, though it may be virture. He hoped so. He was looking for mercy mostly…but no…he didn't think so.

The other short, a boy, but Em's age he figured, britches and vest and hat too big, some dark cropped hair showing around the neck, a gunbelt and a gun long as his thigh bone, and boots and spurs. Effeminate for some reason, the wrists maybe, a lack of strength in the movements, not given to beard, skin too smooth, nose too tiny and fine, but cocky alright. Look you right in the eye with back-up in it.

He came forward as they stood on the platform waiting for their bags to be unloaded. He stepped up and nodded polite, removing his hat even.

Well they eyed him.

"Jasper?" The woman asked.

He shook his head.

"Then you must be Edward, the brother," she said and Edward cringed inward realizing all that writing Jasper done, this woman must know what he liked for breakfast and how many times a day he pissed.

Well they stared blankly at him and he dug out that letter Bella had written to explain things, for Jasper had refused to write. Edward knew he should wait until Marie was seated, if this was Marie, lessen she fainted or such, but she would need some explanation so he handed her that missive and she did open it quickly.

He waited as she read, eying him a time and time. But the boy, he was staring at Edward birdy-eyed bright.

When Marie was finished she handed the letter to the other one. That boy read it quick, then balled the letter and threw it at Edward.

"He ain't getting out of it so easy," that boy said.

Marie nodded then. "Where is Jasper?"

Edward pointed up the mountain, though they wouldn't understand exactly. He was not saying Jasper was in Heaven though if they took it that way…so be it.

"Take us there," the boy said, understanding enough, spitting long side of the platform, his hands on his hips.

And so they made their choice. But Jasper had not wanted one and now he had this boy along….

Lord, God the middling feeling was in him so strong.


	16. Chapter 16

Bringing Bella Home 16

Up they traveled, the three most unlikely companions ever. Him in his middlings, the sullen boy riding in back atop their bags, Marie in her dark clothes, a raven perched on the seat beside all but cawing.

Marie had brought two trunks, heavy as coffins with big bodied men inside. The boy was stronger than he thought, but still he'd done the lion's share of dragging those from the station platform to the bed.

The boy traveled lighter, packed saddle bags, a saddle, a carpet bag. He smoked now, laying reclined back there, child sized boots on the side, propped there, one ankle crossed over another smoking his roll until the road hit a rough patch and he sat up cursing, Lord's name and all.

That was Em he'd be calling him, turning with the quirt to smack him. But this one…Lord. So he did eye them both and this Marie, she never let her spine soften no matter how much they jostled along, no her feathers did not ruffle.

She was not without handsome qualities. It all went together in a way, the dark eyes, different from Bella's for sure, these sharp in their assessment, able to hold on and bore in like rickets, but a cold beauty there for sure if you had the sass to hold them. A nose of no distinction, and lips on another face comely, on Marie's serving the purpose of hiding her teeth and holding in her food was what he reckoned.

Though she wore her hair back and let her face be the prow, it's as if the beauty was held captive under a presentation so flat and unrevealing of emotion you could pass her on the street and scarce remember her imprint…other than her darkness.

This was not the woman for his brother, that he did know. He never should have brought her this far. He had to be a man about it, and they was due for a break and up ahead was a good turn around place so he held his until then, then he pulled over there, and Marie said, "Allen, get the bag with the apples."

Then she jumped down and went straight for the river, and the boy jumped out and went off the other way and Edward did climb down slow for his leg ached, and he checked over the mules, that nothing rubbed wrong with the harness, and he waited while they did their business and reappeared. Allen was first, rummaging for their apples. He got those then Marie came and she was wiping her face and hands with a handkerchief and her hat tied there, and he knew Bella would have tore that off long time back, not that he knew for sure, for when he'd brought her she'd been sick, and then he'd dropped her in the river, Lord, but he longed for her now.

He cleared his throat, and they ignored him, Allen sharing water with old Pruny, and Edward knew that was wrong to call her such but seeing as he was not taking her to Jasper afterall, he needed to get it set in his mind who she was.

He cleared his throat once more. Allen had just taken a big bite of biscuit and chewed quick, cheek bulging, and he did look at Edward then nudged Marie so that one would look.

"What is it Edward?" Marie said for she knew he 'was the mute' as she said right out to Allen back at the station.

He pointed to Marie, then Allen, then toward town and folded his arms. They looked at one another like they couldn't believe their ears…eyes.

Then he pointed up the mountain toward home and shook his head no just in case they doubted his intentions.

Allen pulled his gun lickety split and held it on Edward. "You listen to me you wordless piece of no-account. We come far to meet her true love and it ain't been easy or cheap. I'd just as soon go home…I promise. Ain't known a fellar worthy of so much effort. But this one here has her heart set on your man Jasper and I ain't gonna see her left holding some note says _he has a belly ache_ or some such coward's disease _so could you please take yourselves back to the home you got rid of to come here in the first place_! You're taking us to Jasper Cullen alive and fit or I'll give you something to really limp about," and he cocked that gun, "…so you choose buster. For anyone drives us out…it should be him. The coward!"

"Allen," Marie said pushing on the barrel of Allen's gun so he would lower such.

Then Marie said, "Edward…I don't know why you've grown cold feet…but I wish to declare my deep and unswerving love for your brother. Have I not attended his letters faithfully all these years? You know I had my ailing mother to see to. I could not abandon her and she was too frail to travel. You cannot know how my heart has ached to be with my beloved…and now…to be so close…."

Well, this was some better in Edward's point of view. Maybe he had misjudged them. He didn't like them…not a bit. He did not want them in his cove as they were loco, no doubt about it, particularly Allen, and free with that gun he was going to lose before they got home, but they had commitment at least. Maybe Marie did really care about Jasper after all if she was so definite. But he was not going to spend his days around these two. And what about that? Two? Who asked for two?

He walked toward Allen and held out his hand for the gun. Allen had lowered it, but he tucked it back in the holster now. "Oh no," he said. "This was Daddy's gun and I am never without it."

Well he was the daddy. Best convey that straight away. He came closer now and Allen looked quick to Marie, shielding her with his body and pushing them back some.

"What are you doing Mister Edward?" Marie said firmly over Allen's small head.

"He thinks he's gonna take my gun," Allen said, letting his girly hand hover over the butt.

Edward held out his hand and kept his slow approach. He'd rounded the wagon to where they stood and he stopped close enough Allen should hand over. He never broke eyes with Allen, and that one was licking his lips.

"Give it to him," Marie said low.

"I ain't giving him the only thing I got to protect us with," Allen said.

Now that made sense. Edward could see that. But Allen had already drawn it rashly, and that wouldn't do. So Edward kept his hand there and moved it toward Allen in a quick jab. His jaw, prominent to begin with, stayed fixed and he waited for the boy to surrender.

"Give it to him," Marie hissed.

Allen swallowed dry and loud. There was some hate in his face. "I know I shouldn't of pulled it so quick," he said. "I won't do it again."

Edward moved his hand like he grew impatient, and Marie reached around Allen and pulled the weapon and Allen and her tusseled some and argued and Edward was shocked when that one reached back and cracked Allen across the face.

Allen fell against the wagon and Marie pulled that gun before he could gain his composure and using two fingers she handed it to Edward.

Allen stayed against the wagon, his hand on the corner of his bleeding lip, looking from Marie to Edward, a storm of thoughts in his eyes.

Edward took the weapon and swiftly unloaded the bullets, put those in his pocket, and handed the weapon back to Allen.

Allen stared at the gun, then at Edward. He hadn't expected its return. Submission often meant a return of power, Edward knew, though young folks and some old never tried it long enough to reap the rewards. He waited patient as Allen's small hand took the weapon back. Allen stood straight and sheathed it in the holster. Marie climbed back on to the seat and Edward walked back around and got on his side. Allen climbed in the bed and with all the misgivings in the world, but knowing each other some better, Edward headed that wagon for the cove.


	17. Chapter 17

Bringing Bella Home 17

They were nearing home and sun had set some back but the moon was bright and he'd adjusted enough to see good as day and these mules…they knew.

The three of them had barely acknowledged one another since that show down. But after a time Marie did say, "I would ask you to stop before we get to the farm so I can freshen some."

Edward shot her a slow look then commenced to staring over the rumps of his mules. He reckoned she was assembling all the troops, not ready to give up in spite of Bella's letter.

Well she'd come this far and subdued Allen some. She was the one in charge. Was this her son then? Seemed so…but not. He'd never heard Jasper mention she'd been married before. She was the symbol of fair womankind, and pure as fresh snow is how he remembered his brother carrying on. So where did this one figure? Brother? Perhaps. It was not uncommon to take in others for many reasons. He wished he knew, so he caught Marie's eye and thumbed toward Allen.

Marie looked back as if to figure out what he pointed at. Well it wasn't the trunks, that's for sure.

"Allen?" she said.

Edward kept staring.

"You weren't expecting two of us," she said.

He did not acknowledge but he was listening. He learned long ago not to bob his head like a fishing cork. Folks relied heavy on others to do much of their thinking. He just waited for folks to do their own.

"Allen is like a son to me," she said.

A son. Like a son. Well, it was in the washtub now, nothing to do but get it out of there and it would be interesting to see.

When they got to the graded road Em did not wait. That one was gone more than he was home these days. But he stopped there. It was last chance to the river and they…or Marie could freshen. Not that Jasper would care. Or come out of his room.

He feared that one's reaction…at first. Surely he'd come around some. But then…maybe not. He'd be mad most likely for Edward had failed him in allowing them passage…in providing such. Well damn he'd wanted no part in this.

There were black bears could be troublesome but he reckoned she'd scream and Allen could go running with his empty gun if there was trouble. So Marie freshened. Allen had handed her the smallest bag and she'd taken that to the river. He stayed in the bed and Edward heard the match and knew that one smoked. Edward had no wish to talk to it, and didn't like it at his back knowing what a devious little pissant it was.

But it talked to him. "I know we got off rough," it…he said. The wagon moved as Allen made his way up front. Edward fought his inclination to tense. Allen's hand showed in Edward's side vision. Edward reckoned he was supposed to shake such and wave the olive branch over this one wanting to plug him back a piece.

He had no wish, but this was a young fella. So Edward turned and looked Allen in the eye. Young buck had a smoke in his mouth, its tip bright orange in the poor light and he squinted from looking through the smoke. Well, must have been hell to grow up pretty as a girl. He was glad for Em so obviously what he was. They stared a minute. Then Edward nodded, but he'd never let go of the reins. He'd never taken the hand.

Allen pulled back and took the smoke out of his mouth. "You're a mite stubborn," he said.

Wait 'til they met Jasper.

After a few minutes Marie came back and she had a white shawl round her shoulders fastened in front with a broach. Edward was a mite ashamed to be thinking, no, Jasper would not need his pecker. Well, he was hungry and in a foul mood.

He did not assist her when she got in. He'd seen she was able and he was crude, but she was crude coming where she wasn't wanted.

And so they went that last mile.

The house belied the events, nestled there looking so peaceful even in darkness, as they entered the cove and felt a slight descent. Marie had been looking back at Allen conveying whatever her impression was and Edward was proud and a mite arrogant he knew for it was a homey scene and quite lovely.

But inside that big cabin…that was the gold. And she was soon on the porch, his Bella the light spilling from the open door behind her. He could smell supper. And he was safe and sound like she'd told him and itching to wrap himself around her for she was so lovely she stole his breath.

Well she stood there, Bella did, braids wrapped around her head like he liked. Her lovely eyes were bugging, and her not smiling, just more surprised seeing these two he wasn't supposed to bring…well the one and the other they got for free.

"Why, you must be Marie," she said to the first one out of the wagon. Then to Allen she said, "Oh."

And that one said, "I'm Allen."

"My goodness," Bella said. Then, "I'm Bella."

Well, he got down and the pain in that leg, Lord, and he tried not to hobble like an old man, stopping to removed the pin and take the mules on to the barn still in harness.

He did not look back, but Bella had taken over and he knew he was a coward and low-down to desert her, but he had handed them off and he wanted none of it and he had these animals needed care.

When the mules were in the paddock he went through the barn, too dark but he knew Em had done the chores like he'd been taught, and he took off his hat and beat the dust off on his leg as he stumped to the house. Once his hand was on the door he swore in his mind and went in.

Jasper's door was open and the voices were in there. Allen sat in the rocker, rocking furious, his eyes pretty big in his face. Bella came out of Jasper's room and closed the door. She looked grim.

Well Edward had a hundred questions. He lifted his hat and pointed toward the bedroom.

"He's in there," she said. "Marie…also."

Was that good? He didn't know, but she had closed the door. Why would she do that?

So he went across the room and Bella hurried to the stove to get his grub he knew, but she wasn't stopping him so he was going to knock, then thought, hell now, and he went ahead and opened and he couldn't see the bed less he went in so he did take a couple steps in, and there was Marie, chair pulled to the bed, and Jasper laying there, on his back, his hand in hers.

If he could speak, he would say to Jasper, "What the hell, is your legs broke?"

He had to have enough pride to get out of that bed at least, but the way she was there you'd think this was his death bed and her the faithful nursemaid. It was just sickening.

So he pulled his hat off for he had forgot, and he waved it toward Jasper cause it was all he could get out.

"My darling is here," Jasper said, like it was Mother Mary sitting there giving him the keys to the pearly gates or some such.

His darling looked old enough to be his mother. Was that a relief then? He wanted to load these two up, mother and like-a-son and get them on the train to California or the like all he cared. This was just…wrong.

Jasper, face like a simpering puppy said, "I'm so glad they came on."

He tried to think how many minutes it had taken him to get in the house once he dropped them at the porch. It couldn't have been more than twenty. What had this woman done in that space of nothing to put his brother under her black spell?

Well why was he still in the bed then? Time to resurrect if he was so happy. He marched to the bed and grabbed Jasper by the arm. That one was slapping at him saying, "What are you doing?"

And Marie was hanging on to Jasper, trying to pull him in the other direction, trying to keep him on the bed.

That got Edward more disgusted than ever and he pulled and ripped Jasper out of Marie's arms and she fell forward on the bed as he yanked Jasper on to his feet and there he was standing in his nightdress. And it looked ridiculous.

"Get your hands off me," Jasper said through his teeth, not the weakling now, not the sick one laying in the bed ready to go to glory with his marm stroking his face, but grabbing onto Edward and moving him to the door, pulling that wide with his free hand, for he was doing all the shoving with the other, and then shoving Edward on out, and his leg so sore and all he nearly stumbled and fell over as Jasper's door slammed behind him.

Well he'd dropped his hat in there, but all he could do was look at Bella and Allen who sat at table, food smoking, but them waiting on him he reckoned, Allen more girlish than ever sitting across from Bella, both their faces turned, two sets of eyes now, his foolishness multiplying before them, them watching, some shock maybe, for he and Jasper, it had been noisy he realized, perhaps threatening, but Allen had not come to protect Marie or drawn his gun this time, so not too threatening. He hoped.

Well he moved his chin side to side and moved his shoulders too, and pulled at his shirt for it had been rearranged some, and he moved his suspenders some too, then his hair. But starving as he was, he could not go to table with those two…his love and his nemesis, he would not, so he stalked to his room, which was no longer his, but hers, and without remembering that for a minute, he went in there and closed the door. Then he saw her doo-dads right away, moon coming in the window and all, and there, back of the door her robe, and her lovely smell and it touching him some, that soft, and he remembered and he closed his eyes and did an audible sigh and that would have been something to be excited about, but he wasn't. His happy was far, far away.


	18. Chapter 18

Bringing Bella Home 18

No sooner had Edward made that sigh than Bella's door, well his door that was now on loan to the love of his life, came crashing against his back cause he'd been standing right before it thinking they wouldn't follow him in here at least.

He was wrong. It was Bella pushing in. He was shocked and willing all at once and he pulled her in there.

"Edward…oh my word…I could throttle you right now putting this all on me," she said in a fierce whisper. "But oh," she said, "you are home. I missed you so." Then here she came crashing against him and just when his arms got past the shock of lust her warm soft lips and sweet body so close inspired, she pulled back. "No, no, I can't look kissed. We have to stop. We have to think."

He tried to ignore her and go in for a good round of smooches but she was serious, pushing him back, her hand over his mouth. He licked her hand right away, and she gasped and pulled it off his mouth. "Will you stop this and listen?" she whisper shouted.

Well, he was.

"I had to tell them…you're my cousin."

He felt his skin cluster between his brows.

"I…couldn't let them think me…an unmarried woman…and there I was alone in the house with Jasper…Cousin Jasper I call him now…and him in bed in his nightshirt…as he has been since you left. But she's gotten a rise from him already."

Well he doubted that but…what was Bella thinking to say she was his cousin? Did she not realize…she had to go out and tell them. He didn't give a possum's scat what they thought anyway. They shouldn't even be here…Marie and her dastardly outlaw.

"Now you hold on," she said like he'd spoken aloud. "The minute Jasper saw Marie walk into that room it was like a miracle. He sat right up. He knew it was her right off and she went to him and I've never seen the likes. You did right to bring her and we are not going to do anything to shame him. I had to do something to remove any impropriety from my presence here."

Well he was not impressed. He looked at her, his lips stacked pretty flat.

"Young Allen…what kind of example…."

Now he put his hand over her mouth. He felt her tongue where she licked him as he'd done to her. He took his hand away quick and pulled her right up to him, his lips waiting there, and he almost got them smashed against hers before she pulled back.

"Edward," fierce whisper now, "are you listening? This is serious!"

He sighed, silent this time but for the big rush of breath. He let her go.

"Allen is so protective of Marie. It's so dear. He has pummeled me with questions about Jasper. Can you imagine how he must feel with his mother seeking marriage from what to him is a complete stranger?"

He let out some breath through a split in his lips making a psssh sound. It was as close to saying shit as he could get.

"Will you listen to yourself?" she rebuked. "I don't know what you have against these two but they will probably end up being your family so you better rethink this high-handedness."

Just cause he couldn't speak didn't mean she should keep talking. He moved her aside gentle as he could mood he was in and went out.

Well Allen was at the table there shoveling supper. He slowed his shoveling and stared back at Edward. Edward was hungry enough to eat a small…man. He was going to go out but why do that? This was his cove…his table…his vittles. No time to retreat, no time at all. So he went to table and sat and pulled the stew his way and took an unnatural helping.

Bella had been behind and she pulled her chair and sat to his left. Allen was across. Marie was in Jasper's room. Apparently that little waffle in propriety didn't bother the trigger happy dandy boy at all for he was just starting to reconvene shoveling without a care in the world.

"Let's pray," Bella said, and Edward bowed his head, but not too much for he watched Allen look about shot and he laid down his fork and folded his murdering paws.

Bella said some sweet prayer mostly for Allen's benefit Edward reckoned. Then Edward started to shovel. He didn't even look up when Jasper's door opened and miracle on miracle his brother showed, wearing his robe and a shawl over that, his crazy mop of hair springing wild and Marie leading him to table like he was a dumb beast.

To his surprise Bella started clapping and Allen wondered what to do seeing as Edward wasn't clapping, but then he clapped too a couple of times. Marie beamed and Jasper was red-faced and grinning and Edward thought, he's gone insane.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Bella said, to Edward of all people, "Jasper is up and walking."

Good thing he couldn't talk, very good thing. For he had no idea in hell what this was about and he would have voiced it.

But as it went on, apparently Bella had told their guests that Jasper had fallen from the mow and had been in a sleep for a few days and just recently woken up and that's why he'd been lying abed. Well Bella Swan/Dubois whoever the hell could lie like that bearskin in front of the hearth.

Edward looked at her and if looks could shame she should be on her knees crying about now, but not her, she was pretending to grin and pushing food on everyone, Marie and their convalescent and dirty little Allen to boot. But about him she said, "Good thing I made so much with Edward taking the lion's share."

He knew his ears were good. Well that wasn't friendly no matter how much she grinned. Who the hell was she anyway? Not his cousin, that he knew. Not the girl he'd left before he'd brought these two demons home. He was about the only one acting natural since they got here.

He ought to send word to Emmett to stay away. Whatever that one was up to had to be more rewarding than this.

So they ate and forks hit tin plates and he didn't want all he took, but he wanted to prove he had the right to take it, take it all, so he kept forcing it down until it filled all the road in him and was setting back of his throat. He barely finished and without a by you leave he went out.

Lord, God his hands were on his stomach like he carried a barrel against him. That was more food than he ate in a month at Douglas. Lord above he was spoiled rotten.

Where would he sleep? In the barn. He hated retreat. Why should he be in the barn? Truth be told…he wanted away from them. Even her. Bella. She had betrayed him, sold him out, down the river, to the Yanks. She was one herself. Those Yanks…couldn't trust the lot and now his house was full up…of Yanks.

Same ones who'd put him and Jasper through all the hell of Douglas. He vowed then to never put his ears where he had to hear those nasly Yankee twangs. And now…he'd been kissing one not an hour ago and sharing his food there, food he'd pulled up from the earth, mind you, or wrung the life from and scalded and plucked…and who was he? Lion's share? He may be silent but he always told the truth! A voice was just an instrument for lies. She'd said as much. Oh she liked him silent. It was…his silence…she liked. Bull-twang. It was his reb willy she liked, she liked it cause she was a Yank and they were lying whores and murderers and thieves, every one.

He'd been banging a milk bucket against a post in the barn while he thought all that. The bucket was ruined and he threw it aside and the animals weren't too happy either.

"Edward?"

Oh Lord here she was to add insult….

Well he couldn't look at her. He didn't mean it, thinking whore about her. He didn't mean it. But she made him so mad.

"I forgot to tell you about Jasper falling from the mow," she said.

He looked sharp at her.

"Well he didn't. But…I felt I had to explain why he wouldn't come out and meet them. My thought was…gain their sympathy. So I said…the letter I'd written to dissuade them was because Jasper didn't want to worry them over his condition. Well I said that in front of him, and he caught right on."

She wouldn't stop. Just when he'd chastised himself and tried to remain hopeful she was talking again, digging a new hole, a new grave for all he felt. She was his lamb. The lies were making it damn hard to keep the dream. Well he hadn't kept it. It was burst somewhere.

But now she smiled and moved toward him. She put her hands on his chest and damn if his heart didn't pick right up. Apparently his innards hadn't read the smoke signals.

"I have to get back in there and do the dishes but I was thinking…this isn't so bad if we're careful. After I clean up…I could go out the window and meet you here and they'd be none the wiser."

Well…it was more wiliness. But…it didn't sound so bad…her idea. After the way she'd treated him at dinner…well…she pretty much owed him some kindness.

So he rubbed his aching belly some and his stomach growled trying to move all that grub around. He nodded his assent.

She grinned big then. "Alright," she said, fetching as a girl. Then he remembered she'd told them he was her cousin. And they'd believed such apparently probably thinking he was so ugly one as beautiful as her couldn't be his gal. Well he'd like to see them after years in Douglas. But…Bella was coming to spoon and spark. Not that they'd be doing what they done in Forks. That was for marriage, he knew that. But having her in his arms…well he couldn't find anything close for compare.

She took off then, light-footed as she ran for the house and her chores. She was duplicitous and a pretty astonishing liar but she was his dove…his sweetness…and he'd have to keep one eye on her while the other rolled in his head in bliss for he loved her strong and that hadn't changed.

He barely knew what took him when she was around as he gathered the hay in a good way and laid out his shirt and peeled down his suspenders. Well he was asleep when she finally showed in her gown and robe and slippers. She had a scarf tied over her head to keep the straw from her hair. Well her sweet smell assailed him and his guard was barely up with her waking him that way, and his body was ready to fire, about like always with her, well he was a beast that way and did not share Jasper's problem or fear or whatever it was, no, it had not touched his manly business.

He had his arms around her, her head tucked under his chin. He reckoned Allen shared Em's bed, driving him out, no room at the inn, the inn he'd built with his own two shaky hands and his aching thumbs and bum leg.

And Jasper was to give Marie his room while he went up to the attic, but now he had his own sorry skinny backside planted in those fresh sheets he'd hung before he'd fallen into bits whining over his pecker.

And Bella would bundle on his own tick. He wanted her to marry him. Quick. Now she'd told this lie and she had to untell it. That's all.

So he tapped her arm and she sat up. He pointed to her, he pointed to him and he took her hand and he touched the finger he hoped to put a ring on for there was not one there now and if there was he'd of pulled it off with his teeth and chewed it up and spit it in the hay, but the finger was bare and he wanted his own ring upon it. So he waited for her answer.

She said, "I took it off when I ran away."

He figured that, but he did not need to know about it, he could see for himself, he wanted marriage. He tapped her and tapped her finger and pointed to himself. It was dark but he knew she would hear.

Her hand was over his heart, his hand on hers. "Edward," she said, her voice so soft and smooth, "are you proposing?"

He lifted her hand and kissed it and put it back over the stampede.

"But…you know my circumstance."

He waited.

"I…I don't know what to say. You would marry me knowing?"

He squeezed her hand.

"You would," she said.

He would.

"You are telling me…I can stay. I…don't have to go back," she whispered laying against him once more.

He moved his shoulder so she'd raise her head, and when she did, he kissed her, finally, with all of his love in it, the way he let his mouth open, but he kept it careful, even as he let his tongue gentle her lips open to him. Even in this he kept himself in check, easy with her, wanting her to know, he was a man self-possessed. He was a man who would always put her first. He had learned things. He had raised a son. He knew living for someone else, he knew sacrifice. He worked hard. His hands were rough and he was skilled and he had a code, an honor and he had something to share, he could feed her, care for her, he would listen, it would matter what she thought, he wanted to know, he wanted to take a seat in her mind and let her perform, let her orate and speak and he'd be clapping for her, first one to if she'd give him a chance.

He would protect her. He had protected her. He wasn't confused about right and wrong. He had courage. And he was offering all of it. That's what marriage was far as he could figure. And he wanted it with her. Didn't matter about those others. He wanted her to go to the preacher with him come Sunday and take the vows and sign in the bible they was wed. They was one. He felt it so strong. He knew.

She studied him. "If he finds me…if he comes..."

He sat up some and she raised on her elbow, and he held her face and he kissed her then.

"I…I am quite attached…to you," she said. "Matter of fact…it is strong…this attachment…like…I cannot imagine ever leaving your side. I have wondered…what this is that grows in me…I have wondered…."

He knew she spoke truth like he knew her lies. He knew she loved him. She didn't know, but she nearly did, she was headed there. She was some twisted. She'd been alone, then used for her attributes. But he knew love. Em taught him love. And his brother. Then the hate in Douglas brought it out…the bad, the horrible bad, and then the stark good thing that would cut more than the evil, the sweet reminder of love.

Jasper kept Marie's picture. It's that he kept his eyes on. He created this world where she was with him there, this story he could live in along with the filth and sick and death and hunger, and torture, oh Lord.

But Edward was different. He looked darkness in the eye…the evil eye, and what he saw was sorrowful…and real…and they was treated like animals…but they did not become such…not the ones who knew.

And he did. Love. A knob of bread, a body close to share the warm, a story, a song, a smile, a place in line, a name, a memory, a word.

Love was cruelty's sister. Bigger. Brighter. Stronger.

Good book said everything else had an end. But not love. Love was the great enduring truth.

A baby in a bag…and a mountain blue and green and big enough to poke its head into the clouds…and a brother who stood by…and a new day and new sun in a blue sky and a Negro woman's milk…and Ma's china in a trunk waiting all those years he was away…worth couldn't be taken…and a knowing, a knowing, this ain't all there is. But if you thought it was…it was all you were ever gonna have. And you could be a son of a bitch if you thought short sited like that.

Well, he'd made Em, his mark, his mark of love and hope and future on this earth. Oh, he knew love. And that's how God felt about him. It couldn't be taken away.

And while he was here, he was reaching…redeeming what he had left…he wanted her. Oh she was his gift and he was humble and he was grateful…and he did not like to waste…not a crumb…with pride and stubborn and blind. He did not want to miss out on love so he did ask her once again, touching her finger, touching his heart, touching her heart, and stroking her cheek, and she said, "I will. I will marry you. But…that other one…I don't want to put you in peril."

And he did grin, and she was looking at him, and she said, "I know you think you can lick this world," and she was grinning too.

And he pulled her to him and kissed her good then and the sounds came then, from deep in him, and her hand went to his throat, and she felt them there, those sounds…from love.


	19. Chapter 19

Bringing Bella Home 19

Bella left him during the night. He followed, but she did not know for he feared she would fall in the window and there would be no one to help her as she lay bleeding…maybe dying. So there he was watching from afar as she disappeared, feet flailing for a moment as she dove headfirst into that opening.

Oh his beloved, he thought. Sometimes he wondered at her choices.

Lo and behold who was coming home same time…sneaking home he should say…but Em. He stood back, but it did no good for he had his dogs and they came up, hackles on that touchy one who led. Well if Edward was a dog he'd be that one for sure so he stomped at him and that one recognized and backed off.

"Pa, what in hell?" Emmett said on the dismount from Jack.

Well that about said it for him too, and he glared at his son.

"You about…you surprised me," Em corrected.

Again…same.

Edward took Jack from Em and led him to the barn.

"Thank you, Pa," Em said, and Edward heard the weary.

He tended to Jack, stabled him with feed and water and was leaning on the gate there when he heard the shot and he went to the barn door, then the yelling, but he was already on a run for the house.

Well he whipped that door, there was talk about in there, shouting some.

"You can get that damn gun out of my face, that's what," Em was just saying all heated.

Well Bella had lit a lantern on the table there. Seemed Em had fallen in bed atop Allen and Jasper. Allen had the big gun out, flailing it in his hand already hysterical and apparently having reloaded ready for duty. He'd fired it in the house.

Well Edward barged over to the deadly runt, yanked the gun from his trembling hand and slapped him across the face. He would regret it, but he cared not at the moment he was full up tired of this madman trying to kill them.

Right after he slapped Allen he looked at Bella, standing at the table there, and she had her hand over her mouth her eyes wide with…something.

But Allen's lip was trembling and his eyes were glassy, and Edward pushed away regret for it would be a different story had his bullet found its way into Em!

Oh he had to eat his lecture, but if he could this whippersnapper would get a scorchin'.

Emmett was saying, "I didn't see you," to Allen, through his teeth. "This is my bed, dammit."

Jasper finally found his balls and spoke, Edward thankful they weren't broke along with the other. "It was a mistake. Allen…Edward is a man of action. He's very protective of us…as are you I can see, but I think Edward should lock up that gun for a spell. Emmett, my bed is empty up in the attic, and you are surely welcome to it." Then to Marie who stood in the doorway of Jasper's room, shrouded in her nightclothes and ruffly snood on her head, "My darling, I hope you can understand what a grave misunderstanding this was and resume your sweet slumber. We are all safe."

Em stalked off for the ladder to the rafters. Marie nodded and after staring some at Allen said, "And why, pray are you two sharing such a narrow bed? Allen you need to stretch out there before the fire."

Allen stared back at Marie, small hand still on his too smooth cheek. "I am fine right here. Marie."

Marie sniffed and straightened. "Allen…it is not like you to disrespect me so. I know you are upset from these events but I must implore you take your repose before the fire."

There was a stand off of sorts, and Bella did say, "Marie…Cousin Edward's bed is unduly broad. Would you like to share it with me? Then Jasper can take your room, and Allen can stay in Em's bed."

Jasper spoke up now, "Nonsense, dears. Allen and me are quite comfortable here. You all stay put now and go back to bed. You can't please all of the people all of the time…."

Edward couldn't believe his ears. Jasper had quoted Lincoln to these Yanks. In this house! He had lost his mind, that scant pebble that had survived Douglas and now was taken by the bird of madness.

And worse, in Edward's estimation, Jasper had made light of Allen's rashness with that gun! Not only had he been at the end of it himself, but it had been fired in their house! And at Emmett! Nevermind that his darling was nearby! Well it was evident who the hireling was and who the real and true…was. Jasper had just sold out his son in his opinion…and chose this Allen so Marie would be comforted. Well Marie had brought this devil amongst them and she needed to send him packing or Edward would do it himself. Yes siree, come morning he was going to have a talk with his brother, and being a 'man of action' he was going to get some action or else!

Edward decided he'd be the one to lay before the fire. He decided he'd be the one to keep an eye on things as the lot of them were distracted, but he was not a distracted man, he saw what others didn't. And what he saw he pondered as he lay on that God awful hard floor.

Emmett was up to something. He smelled it. And he was up to something more. He smelled that too.

Jasper was addled. Rattled. Unsaddled. And presently turned on his side toward Allen who was turned on his side toward Jasper. They used to sleep close in Douglas, piled for warmth. But never once, turned toward each other.

Allen had ankles below that union suit that was unlike any he'd seen on a man and he'd seen so many, dead and alive…hundreds…but Allen's were different. And hairless. Like his face. Allen was weird and apt to do anything. Anytime.

Marie and Allen were tugging on two ends of a rope.

Bella was sort of married and he was going to marry over all that come Sunday, though he had not told her it would be Sunday.

He was in love. He was so in love.

Next he knew the rooster was crowing, well all ten of them were and that reminded they would be having fried chicken come Sunday for this was intolerable.

So he got himself up, little slow. It was time for milking.

He met Em in the barn. Together they went through the sameness of chores. When finished, he washed up and saddled Briney. First off he would go to see Esme. Esme would tell him what to do. That's if things could be done. And they always could.


	20. Chapter 20

Bringing Bella Home 20

When Edward wanted to speak about Em with Esme, he held his hand out like it was over the head of a little boy. That's how they talked about Em all his life. Well, the years Edward was in the war and then Douglas, they did not talk about Em, but all the other years and still, the sign for Em was Edward's hand like that.

But he didn't have to use the sign today. For as soon as he was at Esme's table drinking her strong coffee laced with whiskey and milk, that soon, she said well now, Jacob is up the mountain you want to see for yourself what him and Em pursue.

He looked at her. Oh Lord. He'd known…long time now. Boy in the mountains becomes a man…falls in love…thinks of the future, first off it's cash money he wants…needs…and he looks at how to get it.

So he finished that coffee and thanked her. He put his cupped hands in front of his chest there at the door, sign for 'female,' this case Rosalie. He could barely hear this part his middle was so full of dread. So next he put his hands front of his belly, him holding the keg like night before when he'd glutted so much supper, and Esme just looked at him, and there in her eyes. Oh Lord.

Well the truth will set you free. Free to lift a gun to your head is what, but he wasn't doing that, not nearly, but the truth could make your boots weigh ten more stone is what.

Then he pointed to his heart and beside. That meant Jasper.

She said, "He has that woman coming is what Em told Jacob."

He looked at her and held up two fingers.

"Two?"

He nodded.

"Two…came?"

He nodded.

"That woman and another?"

He stared. Then he pointed at his britches.

"One of them a man?"

He nodded and held his hands up, palms toward her as if to say… "but…".

Then he made the sign for loco, swirling finger at his temple.

"Crazy?"

He nodded.

"She brung a crazy man?"

He nodded and folded his arms across his chest.

"What are you going to do?"

He looked away.

"You have to be tolerant…for Jasper," she said.

He kept looking off. Then he shook his head.

"Oh yes. You do."

He made a choking sign with his hands.

"You can't," she said.

Then he made a shooting sign.

"You know you can't," she said.

He looked at her and signed "Jasper." Signed 'sleeps' with folded hands against his face, then two hands clapped together for 'with,' and the choking sign for 'Allen.'

Now Esme folded her arms and lifted her chin. "What are you saying?" she asked.

He took a pinch of Esme's full skirt and waggled that and made the sign for Allen.

"This other man wears a dress?"

He pointed to his temple.

"This other man thinks he wears a dress?"

Then he did something he would only do for Esme, he held his hand all delicate and pranced in a circle on his toes.

"He's a hoity-toity?"

Edward clapped his hands and nodded.

"He's full of himself?"

Edward shook his head and did the pantomime again.

"He's…odd," Esme said, her chin dipped low, brows too as she studied this display.

Edward nodded.

He fake-fired his finger pistol and threw his hands up like what the hell.

"You mean he's been shooting?"

Edward nodded, all out-raged in the telling.

"Anyone hurt?"

He shook his head.

"What did you do?"

He held up his finger gun and took it away with his other non-gun hand, then he showed how he slapped Allen by slapping the air.

"My oh my," Esme said.

Now it was pouring out of him. Edward held up his hands like 'wait!'

Esme was riveted.

He made the sign for Jasper and the choking sign meant 'Allen,' and he put his hands together and made kissing sounds.

Esme staggered back, hand over her heart. "You saw this?"

Well, he shook his head no, not exactly, but they was sharing breath for sure.

Esme got close and did something she had never done, she gripped him just below the shoulders, nearly crushing his muscles she was so strong. "Are you saying…Jasper is…taken with the crazy man?"

He shrugged and looked down.

She hugged him then. "Mister Edward."

He pulled back and tried to comfort her. He patted her shoulder.

She left off then and walked back into her kitchen and circled her table, one hand on her hip the other holding her lip.

She stopped, finger in the air. "He is confused. Emmett said he did not want that woman to come. Emmett said he took the bed and you were going to send that woman home. I don't know why you brought them up that mountain in the first place…but I'm sure you had reason, and now you did…it all comes out. Jasper is a dandy. Probably got changed in Douglas. Probably took what he could get there…in comfort…and got turned. That's it. That's why he did not want that woman to come. He didn't know how to say it. Then here comes this man…this…hoity-toit…and…he is taken."

Edward made the sign for Em, which in this case meant 'son,' and Esme made the connection right away which is why he liked talking with her so much.

"Glory to God, it's her son? Jasper loves the son and not the mother!"

Edward fell to his knees his hands hanging limp between them. He didn't know shit about any of them. He needed to go off by himself and live in a cave.

She came to him and patted his head there, his hat on still and all. "There, there, Mister Edward. It is no failing of yourn."

He tried to remember…at Douglas…sure it went on…it was there…not spoken about for the most…didn't mean it didn't go on…but it was forcing another that was the thing. Two carried on just kept it out of sight and conversating and no one asked or wanted to know they had bigger things to worry over.

But Jasper…he'd never seen it. Not any of it. But Jasper was so very private…reserved…even when naked you just knew. And before the war there'd been that one girl. But he had not been with a woman…he was disgusted at Edward for what he'd done with Em's ma, knowing that one would and Edward hanging around there, letting it go on until she was on him and it was happening and part of him was screaming at himself to stop it and the other was threatening himself if he did.

And the part of him outraged in himself looked like Jasper, always did. Jasper was his conscience.

Jasper was always very moral and upright. But he'd carried on so long about Marie. Always Marie.

And his flowers and his herbs…and cooking…and sewing…and Em, like a…mother to that one…next to Esme. Good Lord he'd been blind.

He climbed onto his very heavy feet and leaned on Esme's porch rail now. He had one more thing to discuss and she was still patting his shoulder.

He pointed at himself, hands over his heart and then shaped an hour glass before him.

"You are in love," she said.

And he did nod slow. He held up two fingers entwined.

"You will marry a woman with a husband?"

He stared at her.

"Does she agree?"

He put up two hands then whipped one away.

"The husband has died?"

He shook his head furiously, then shrugged calmly to show it didn't matter.

"He is nothing to you?"

He nodded.

Esme hmmmd in her throat and looked at him.

He moved his hand to the sky.

"Well you know what He says. One wife at a time and it goes for husbands too, I'm sure since adultery is a problem."

Yes, he knew and he smiled. No adultery here. He reckoned they were in the clear.

He walked just a tad lighter to Briney then and untied the reins from the rail and mounted.

Esme walked to the end of the porch. "Lord…Lord Mr. Edward you sure got a full plate."

He touched the brim of his hat then. He sure did.

Well for the next hour he took Briney up through trails been there so long. Carlisle's still, when he lived, was way the hell up. He tied Briney that last mile, and he took his time, steps slow but strong. Jacob would see him coming and be pissing himself for he reckoned Edward just got born and just because he did not interfere before now he and Em would think this ain't been done before and nary so clever. Well it was just sickening the way the young repeated the same mistakes the old had done before them. There weren't a thing new under the sun. Not a thing.

Them taters Em planted never made it to town. They was in this still and he knew what they was planted for. Only Edward had planted his with the help of his pap for his pap was no account drunk most of the year drinking more than he ever sold to keep his family in provision and it wasn't long he didn't have the drive to make a crop but he was sure ready to make sure Edward and Jasper made one. He was sure eager to direct them in the making and then to drink himself to death sitting on his backside nearby while they labored. And labor they did until the war. Then after…no more. He didn't want that for Em. He wanted to show him something else. And at this he had failed. Apparently.


	21. Chapter 21

Bringing Bella Home 21

Edward was pensive, deep in his thoughts when he entered the cove late afternoon. He already knew Jacob had alerted Em to his perusal of their operation for they rolled pidgeons back and forth from still to home since boys. He'd seen the two come from Jacob to Em. Then Em returned two others to let Jacob know he'd received.

But it was not Em met him first off as he led Briney into the barn, it was Jasper and he had not figured that but Jasper and Allen were doing chores together, or Jasper was and Allen stuck close. He could hear Jasper's pontificating voice, the teacher, and followed that all sneaky like.

Well, his brother could go on, milking and talking to that Allen while he squeezed those teats, Jasper on one milk stool, Allen pulled up close sitting on the other.

Well Edward was looking at the two…and his brother reborn out of that bed he'd been curled up like a baby in only what…yesterday?

Now that hair of his gathered in a tie top of his head, him no pride about it, some of it still flying around his face, and those lips moving and his words like rocks skipping over the water for happy and carefree. Lord. Seems Allen liked Jerseys and Jasper liked Holsteins and good nature and size and cream and color and Lord above.

Well Jasper had just finished saying how sanguine Bess was and lo and behold she tried to kick Allen, well she was trying to itch a scratch is all, but that Allen went rearing back and fell off the stool, legs wide and boots in the air and Edward had to put a hand over hs lips as if he would spill a hardy-har-har.

And Jasper left off with the milking with the hand closest and reached to help Allen up and Allen took his hand but there was a pause, them still clasped, fingers-wise, and staring just a beat and you had to look to see it, but it was there, Lord, God.

Edward made a noise then so they'd turn some and see him standing by the gate. Well Bess looked too, chewing cud and bored like always. And those two holding hands broke apart quick. And Allen was just putting backside to seat, while Jasper smiled easy and resumed filling the bucket with Bess's offerings. But Allen had a flush to him.

"Edward," Jasper said all jovial, too jovial for a man milking.

Well that was his name. He stared back there.

"Fine dinner Bella and Marie set back for you," Jasper said, his way again, his cheeks all good health too now Edward noticed. And twinkle in his eye? Not since before Douglas had he seen one to rival it.

And Jasper was scooting him on to the house. Oh he wasn't born yesterday he'd say again. They were just a bunch of misfits. That's what he'd realized coming home from that fine running liquor business his son and his almost son was tending. Yes, Lord, they were a bunch legends was made of. Moonshine and hoity-toits and persimmon faced spinster and beauty married twice over soon maybe, and Rosalie Hale and that bunch mixing their blood in her belly and him gray and mute and stumpin' and that pack from Richmond and him with more mouths to feed than the preacher come Sunday.

Time he got to the house Jasper came running and he was whispering, "Edward… Edward…I need to talk to you something fierce. It's this way…I ain't got a problem I thought I had…but I got me one I didn't know I had."

Before Edward could respond, man of action and all, here came Allen with those two buckets. Jasper saw and forgot all about his brother and went all crazy, "Oh here, Allen, let me help you, I didn't mean you should carry this all by yourself."

Edward blew a breath and headed into the house. He needed to set his eyes upon his beauty even if it meant sharing that scenery with Marie.

And his beauty was sitting in the rocker sewing and Pruney was in the other chair there also sewing. And he could see the hope in Pruney's eyes that he was Jasper, and then the heavy disappointment it was just him, Edward, and he quickly looked to his lovely there, and he met her beautiful…coldness…and she quickly leapt onto her feet and laid down that sewing which looked like his shirt getting more put on it, and she hurried to the stove there and he knew she was getting his dinner, and even if her eyes had just stabbed him over with icicles, at least she cared if he starved to death. And he loved the tininess of her waist and the swelling above and below, and her shining crown of hair and that lily white neck and her hands working on his shirt now his dinner, oh…his beauty.

Well he sat in his chair and she carried his plate so carefully, it heaped, as if now, after his display at supper, he had set the bar for gluttony. And so she set it careful there, and gave him his spoon, his knife and his fork and a napkin which he took and shook out and stuck the end in his shirt there, his eyes on her all the while, even as that food assailed his nose and made his mouth all watery. And those icicles were thawing and the love was taking over, he watched it, she couldn't resist him and he'd never felt so powerful and humbled all in one stroke.

She stood there and he tucked into those potatoes and gravy and a sound nearly came out, and it would of if he wouldn't of caught it from habit. But she was going to move off and he caught her wrist there, and she looked at him, and he did scoot back some and pulled her there between his legs and moved her to sit her round tiny self on his thigh there and his arm went around her waist and his hand, his fingers spread against the ribs of her corset, and he had her close as he dared and with the other hand he shoveled in food and while he chewed he stared at her, and she stared at him then hands lifting from her lap she took the corner of his bib and wiped the corner of his mouth then smoothed it back over him, and she took his fork from his hand and got the next bite on it, much smaller than he would have done himself, and his hand not having to work that fork no more did also wrap itself on her, over her legs and his hand attached along that hip this time, and she did lift that fork and he opened his mouth and she fed him that bite and he chewed and all that time his eyes locked on hers, and her blushing and him chewing and he figured hell or high water he was marrying her on Sunday and he would kill any stood in the way or any came after with a disgruntle. That's what no one knew, but he knew, for this was right and all else wasn't came to him and her and he would not bow the knee.

And Pruney must of got tired of the show for she did walk to Jasper's room at some point and he heard her softly close that door. But it did not faze him, it did not concern, for when he was finished chewing that bite and 'fore he took the next he lifted his chin at Bella and he did it quick and she did lean in and he kissed her and she laughed and fed him some more. And that's how Allen and Jasper found them they come from the springhouse and that's how it would be from now on.


	22. Chapter 22

Bringing Bella Home 22

Well what is a man if he can't take that lead bull by the horns and set the course? Edward knew enough to know what led. He wasn't out to fight ever braying cuss in the paddock. Well, fix that lead and he'll take care of the rest himself is what he knew.

First thing was his yearning toward Bella. That was the beast bellowing loudest. So after he ate, or she pretty well finished feeding him for a bit and he took over and she stayed there whole time, eyes bugging when they were discovered by little Allen and Jasper too, and that Pruney not coming out of the room that served as a mother's womb for hiding folks didn't want to be seen, when him and his lovely were not doing something more vile than removing themselves from the foolishness and doing so with affection.

He ignored them all coming and going and he took Bella's hand and pulled her outside just as Jasper and Allen got ready to set at the table there and try and pull them into their gibberish.

So he escaped plain as day and took his gal Bella and once outside sitting on the stump like they'd been in the house, her on his lap there in the yard the nightbugs giving it all they had, Edward repeated his love, touching his heart and hers and held up three fingers cause it was that until Sunday and he did touch her finger for the ring once more and he did this quick cause now she knew.

"Three?" she repeated breathless.

He nodded.

"Three…rings?"

He shook his head and pointed to her little white and now roughened finger again.

She nodded. "Three days? 'Til the marriage? Married in three days?"

He nodded. Right on three counts.

"What about Charles?"

He done told her but he reminded now and wagged his hand back and forth.

"What am I if I bring this on you?" she asked, her hands on his face. "I been about crazy thinking about it. I been mad some for you asking then taking off and leaving me with that Marie and Allen and Jasper ignoring the one and falling all over himself to sport with the other. Then…this idea of marrying…."

It is better to marry than to burn and he was fixing to go up in smoke she didn't marry him. So he put his hand on her chin and touched her lips and stared all that burn into her.

Oh, he was shameless. He was not without influence he got going. He'd always had a strong face, ugly as it become, and he was using it now. And she swallowed hard enough he heard the crack in her throat. And he was thinking, yeah girl, you see what's there. There's nothing in Richmond can touch it.

There was that one time Jesus did turn the tables over in the temple and it got everyone's attention, and he was trying to do that now, in her mind and heart he was flipping everything, no let up until she said….

"How can I deny you?" she asked, her hands on his wrists now like she had to hold on to the hands touching her with love and certainty and feel the cords in his arms like they was playing music from his soul to hers. Cause they was.

Well, he was a lover now. He'd done fighting, he'd lived starved body and spirit shriveled like fruit left on the ground, he was a man knew what he wanted now. He touched her face and he waited.

"I will," she said, "on Sunday."

He picked her up then and swung her round and she was hanging on to his neck, against him, and someone waited long as him…it was long enough. He kissed her then, so long and slow and not so nice, her feet off the ground, her little body up against him, and he let himself go some, and he joined himself to her in that kiss, for the flesh all they had left to seal this deal, not standing and under slavery but free and knowing and choosing. That other one came sometime, Edward would be the wall that one would have to go through, he'd be the wall.

He let her go but barely and not with wanting to. He sat in the yard on a stump there to hold his court while the sun went in deeper and Bella went in the house, to clean from the meal and he did smoke then, rolled it and licked it and smoked it short until she was back out, on his leg where he wanted her.

Em came to him, nodding at Bella. He looked trepidatious but also surprised to see him and Bella so cozy. She looked shy, but she stayed put for Edward held her there so she'd know…no running.

Well Em looked from him to Bella and shook his head with a smile. "Pa…I was gonna say…I didn't want to cause you worry or grief. But I am a thinking man, Pa, just like you raised me to be, and I ain't a fool. And…Pa…I'm gonna marry Rosalie. Fact is…I'm gonna stay after church on Sunday and ask the preacher then cause…truth is…well…she is with child, Pa. And…I know what you wished…but I love her….

Always have. I know I ruined your life and all coming when I did…and now I'm fixin' to make you grandpa…."

Well he cut the hand wasn't tight on Bella through the air. He didn't want to hear Em say he'd ruined his life. Where'd he ever get such a notion, and it wasn't right to use it now to get him on the run. This was Em's doings, all his own decisions, and he needed to stand up and be a man and not throw out those kinds of accusations had nothing real inside. But he was about to ruin Edward's Sunday wedding damn it to hell. And Grandpa? Well…hell.

"He don't agree you ruined his life, Emmett," Bella surprised Edward by saying. Then she put her hand over her mouth like she shouldn't of spoke. Well…Edward didn't want her thinking she had to be his words. He had plenty of his own…always did. But he loved her anyway…loved her for breathing…and he pulled her had back to her lap where he could hold it.

"Well…sometimes I think I must have. He could of done something other than these mountains," Em said, more to her, hoping Edward would hear side-ways and that wouldn't do, "but he nailed himself for me. Jasper…this was his destiny sure, but Pa," then he changed to talking right to Edward, "well Pa you sacrificed. I know…you promised when you came home, you nailed that spike in the ground and you hit it there and let me hit it too and we did make our pact we was same, but sometimes…I wondered you wanted more. Well you can do anything."

Edward hadn't wanted more. Just…a woman maybe…but even then…none inspired him until her…until Bella. He was patient. He knew what mattered. Douglas taught him. He took his lessons.

Well, more he thought more Edward almost shit himself for Em not knowing, his love and all. How could there be something better than what he'd done here? His raising Em, no hardship, his crowning deed in this life, and building. He'd earned this land, his Pa and Ma by blood, him and Jasper thrown in together fought for Tennessee, state's rights and that was these mountains. Well he cut his hand through the air again.

Em blew out.

Edward spoke to Bella then, pointed at Em and held up the three. Bella nodded, but she did not offer the truth of their wedding plans to Emmett. Edward let it go for now…not the marriage, oh no, but the need to say it to Em.

Emmett came forward then, his hand out and he got close enough Edward pulled him in for a hug instead, and Bella was in that hug too, and Em laughed some but Bella and Edward did not laugh, well Bella cried and Edward wanted to, but he held that for his tears were deep. But Em pulled back and looked at him and said through his own quick tears, "I didn't mean to cut you out, Pa, of knowin'…but I just want you to be proud of me."

Edward worked his hand at the back of Em's neck. He nodded at his boy, in his face there. He couldn't be more proud, not since the day, not since the day. So he let go.

"Pa, I'm taking my roll tonight to the cabin." They had a cabin for hunting deer a mile off is all. Yep, Edward could see him there starting in that one room so small. Rosalie Hale. Lord he'd have to bite his tongue and still his looks. It was done now.

"I want to get it ready," Emmett said. "And I ain't running off. I'd like to stay on the place I could. We can break that field to the south like we talked, and I want to run some horses with Jacob."

Edward listened patient. He'd heard these plans, they was always future, and he realized the future was here and he gripped Bella tighter. Wasn't for her…the surprise would kick him harder.

He listened to Em, facing him like he knew he was grown…a man. That's what he asked for…that's why he went off to prove it. There was the still and Edward didn't cotton to it, knew, just knew, but there was more and Em was a man of mettle, or he would be, it was all there, and Edward would make sure he stood firm in the wind coming and old man Hale…well he'd have to reckon with Edward if he pushed too hard.

Em wanted to bring Rosalie here after the vows on Sunday to be welcomed in and Edward got a little stuck there realizing sure his son would want more, and folks did that, he just hadn't thought, but Bella was talking now and saying, they'd have dinner and a cake and was her folks coming and Edward felt ready to explode with protest, but thank the Lord Em said no it was not yet joyous with him getting her in the family way. They accused him of sowing…oats and moving off, and that made Edward see red for it was not Em they needed to worry about but their own low-down selves.

Edward had two hands on Bella and he felt heat in his face, and she touched one of his hands for he pressed too much, so he caught that and thought, what am I doing to my darling? He eased his hold and he worried how they would get alone after they got hitched too, and he didn't want to wait another week even, so he didn't want some big shivaree for he had his own business with Bella.

So now they were in for dinner and cake and he'd be sitting there sweating out his desperate eagerness to be with his bride…finally. 'Must have Bella,' was already screaming in his brain, and the way he felt…time mattered and he'd waited so long.

He was left holding her quiet, her running her fingers through his hair, it long again, nearly to his shoulders, parted down the middle. He had the beginnings of a thick beard for it only took day and a half and he was there. She spoke to him softly, "I know what you're thinking. But what I know…I won't deny you or hold back from you. If we have to take more time…maybe it's a sign."

He knew his look was troubled. She was already back tracking, but he kept looking at her. He wasn't backing down. But her wanting to give…not deny…or hold back…she couldn't say things like that. She shouldn't. Cause now he'd think on it and he'd justify…Lord, he was trying to be a better man…start that way…showing he could wait…because he didn't first time when he made Em…and then he took Bella that way. He was wanting to start out right, with honor, not sneak around like…Sunday better get here quick.


	23. Chapter 23

Bringing Bella Home 23

The Hales came next day, Friday. Em and him were afield and Edward did see the birds astir and Emmett called to him about same time as he was starting to mow other end of the field and when he looked round Emmett waved from high on the wagon seat there.

They did walk back to the house and it took some…but they come in the yard there and the Hales stood and they'd been talking to Jasper and Edward knew at once, way Jasper stood, hands on hips, hair tied top his head, even that, each hair rising, but still it was in his skinny backside and that's what folks didn't know…don't push on him…on Jasper….

So they came in there, and Em held a corn knife in his hand and Edward let it be. And there was Shadrach and here's the thing, Shadrach Hale made Rosalie at twelve with that first Missus so worn down…so he was younger than Edward and he'd gone on to make these others, four more boys with the second and third, but it was Shadrach's brothers, Meshach and Abednego he'd have to watch and they all came, Rosalie too, and that one bruised on her face standing in the bed, Shad's litter all around her, skinny, holding shotguns, turkey guns, ball-loaders looked like, but Rosalie stood there holding a bundle, all she had no doubt.

Well could Em have chosen a more convoluted situation? Then he thought of his Bella and all that came with, and Jasper even, the fix he was so evidently in, and there was a pattern to the Cullen men, had to admit, came to choosing womenfolk…and Allen.

So Edward stood there and Shadrach folded his arms over his chest and stood wide. "Your boy put a baby in my Rosalie and she tried to sneak off this mornin'. Says she's going to marry him, but no good snake hasn't come to talk to me about it. I done told him my law come to mine and he got in under it like a weasel and now we got to have us a weddin'."

Well those boys had weapons, and Meshach and Abednego, were they sober enough, they was itchin'.

Edward stood in front of the house and he heard the door open behind and steps and there stood Bella, Allen behind. Bella had the rifle and she held it like Billy Yank and she stood top of the steps there and had it trained on Shadrach. "You just say, Edward," she said, and he almost lost the chin off his face it dropped so hard 'fore he remembered to snap it up.

The menfolk laughed and hooted, and Bella did not waver. Allen had that empty holster, but Bella must of found his Revolver, for he held it now looking scared as a rabbit, and if it had bullets these boys didn't know how close they was to getting something blown off, Edward just hoped it wasn't him, Em or Jasper got it in the back first.

Well it wasn't guns, Edward could of told Bella. These had struck gold with Em, he always knew. They wanted him alive almost much as Edward did. Rest of their lives they'd try to bleed him through Rosalie. Edward knew what this was, but he loved this crazy girl all the more if possible.

So he stood waiting and Em said, "Come here, Rosie," to that one held in the back of the wagon by her brothers, the lot of them about like Allen for threat. But they could shoot. Boy grows in the mountains he shoots the legs off a dragon-fly 'fore he ever reads a story. But they'd have Shadrach up their asses if they pulled an Allen and Edward reckoned they already knew what a hellish set-to that was.

The three on the ground, these two brothers now, they'd go for Em. They would figure Jasper would be easy, but they'd have to watch he didn't kill them, for when he did fight, Jasper Cullen that is, he'd be back at Douglas cause he never really left…no one did is the thing. At some point…it came up. Always did. They got him going…well….

Edward pulled off his suspenders and let them hang. He toed off one of his boots, then the other, and socks.

Shadrack dropped his coat, undid his belt and opened his pants. He kicked off his boots cause they was big, and dropped the pants and stood there big and ass-stupid in his dirty longjohns.

Edward threw off his hat and unbuttoned his longjohns and took it off to his skin and they about gasped and not just over the muscle that was enough the way he was carved like power and strength, but the scars, the white patches, the whirligigs and ridged over gashes, the stories.

Jasper was like him, stripped to his drawers. Jasper more skinny, also lined like some kind of tribal beast, or like some of the slaves for sure.

Em got barefooted as his daddy taught, he shucked his britches, stood in his longjohns. The Hale brothers were brawny run to fat is all. They had youth on their sides but they was a drunken bunch, Edward knew, and he was a hammer, his brother a chisel, his son full of the righteousness born of love.

Jasper liked to take that stance, fists up and all. Edward hadn't seen such in him since he'd made his sword into a cook spoon, but it was there along with all the other….

The Hale's came on. Them two moved to Em just like he thought. Bella called to him, but it weren't soft, it was, "Beat the livin' shit out of him, Edward." Well that was his saloon singing girl now. She'd seen such as this…well not like this…but darn near, he realized.

He walked quick to Shadrach and 'fore that one knew Edward slapped him across the face hard enough he stumbled back. Edward kept on coming then, and kicked him in the stomach and he did go down now, and Bella kept screaming behind him and it was like she stuffed him for Christmas with the most wonderful fire, for he loved a good fight, and he was about ready to pop waiting for his marriage, and he was full up of a lot of things, and this was going to feel so good. So he dropped right down onto Shad and he just beat the living shit out of him, just like she said to, and his boys were going wild, jumping out of that wagon like mice and she fired that rifle over their heads, thank God and he didn't stop but he heard her yell, "You boys stop right there or so help me God I'll shoot your whole lot."

Edward laughed some, but Shad finally got him in a punch and there was blood now wasn't just Shad's, and they rolled some and Edward got him off and they broke apart, and he could hear Jasper's war cry, and another, but he didn't have time to think cause Shad was fighting desperate, so he punched that one in the nose and crunch and blood that time, then one more, always follow up on those things he knew cause that second one was the effective, and Shad was down again and his boys yelling, and time he finished beating Shad into unconsciousness and taking one of the boy's rifles and shoving him onto the ground from which he scrambled back to the wagon, he looked around, chest heaving, and Rosalie was on the porch, and Bella was near the wagon, rifle on those boys, and Allen was kicking Abednego as Jasper was beating that one's head on the ground, and Em was sitting on Meshach, and that one looked out too, or playing dead, and Em, pretty tore up, but wiping blood from his mouth with his knuckle, grinned hugely at Edward.

Then a shot flew over Edward's head, and Edward looked and it was one of Shadrach's sons taking off on foot, and Bella fired quick over his head and he froze, hands in the air, still holding his weapon, and the boys in the bed laid down their guns and stood in surrender. Bella was telling that one standing to lay his rifle on the ground and that boy laid it down and she told them to pick up their men and get the hell off this property. And Edward watched in pure awe as those boys did what she said. Well, Jasper had left off beating Abednego and him and a struggling Allen were lifting that one toward the wagon and one of the boys came to help with the sagging middle and they loaded that one first. When they had them all they turned the mules and headed out. "Bye Boys," Rosalie called, "tell Mama I love her."

And those young ones did wave.

Bella came to Edward then and he knew he was disgusting, blood dirt and sweat, but she didn't seem to care, and that rifle pointing downward, she hugged him around with her free arm, and he nearly crushed her in two then he was so happy for she was lady, there was no doubt, but she was more than that, she was his match in every way for she could not surrender, no more than him.

But that Allen, helping Jasper to stand, their arms around each other, and that Allen's shirt ripped open some and instead of longjohns, her bandaged round the way Edward had been once, his ribs broke, and more…a swell of sorts, and all this in a flash, and that Allen…that little hellion…that weird one….

Edward and Em went to the well to wash and Bella stayed with him. She got a rag there and started to wash over his cuts and Rose came to Emmett and those two embraced and Rose cried and Em was comforting her and Edward couldn't watch, so he moved off and Bella followed, that wet rag…she asked him to set on the porch and he did and she dabbed here and there, then he took the rag and wiped over the worst, watching her gathering his clothes and boots, her hair down today, and his hands itching to feel it, feel her. He had plenty sass in him, he knew that, and wanted to thank the Hales for reminding. And Jasper…that one…far from that little baby curled in the bed just days before. He had to figure some things, his brother, but Edward felt no need to help him out. He knew he was capable now. It was Allen. Allen had fought for him same as Bella.

So Bella came and set his things on the porch and the rifle. He took the weapon and looked at her.

"Men like that don't scare me," she said lifting her chin.

He nodded. He wondered she hadn't driven off those two tried to hold her so long in Forks. Maybe she was braver when she didn't have to stand alone. Not that he was taking anything from her. He didn't know what it was like to be prisoner to that Victor and the other. But she had some pluck.

"Dumb oafs," she repeated.

He nodded.

"I will never be at the mercy of men like that again."

He stared.

"You taught me that. When you killed those two…I changed. I don't know what it did to you…and I know you've been through worse…but when you killed them after I'd suffered them for so long…I got changed."

He hadn't known. He thought she'd changed working the saloon. But it was him…killing.

He touched her cheek, as was his wont. He looked in her eyes and nodded.

"You're the only one living…who knows me," she whispered and tears then.

He did know her. Now more than ever. And he wanted to know more.

"You never flinch. I think…you're the first man…who can get past my…looks."

Well, he wasn't no different that regard. She pretty well slayed him with her beauty. Even now, right now, could he speak she would see how robbed of words he was looking at her, ruffled from war…from protecting him.

She took that rag and dabbed over this and that…wasn't nothing to it, but her touching him on his chest and back, and him hearing her breath hitch and staring at his chest…then her looking at him and saying, "You're so beautiful."

Did she think that? Did she mean it?

"I won't ever let you be hurt," she said, "if I can help it. I…I would die for you. I've never been like this. I've been worried over myself most my life. But with you…you're all that matters. I…I'm in love, Edward Cullen. I'm…in love with you."

Well the breath left him, quicker than any of Shadrach's punches, she'd knocked it out. He had one notch to go for he was full-fledged man. And she just give it to him, the go ahead. And before he kissed her and her hands on him, on his skin…he groaned aloud. Couldn't be helped.


	24. Chapter 24

Bringing Bella Home 24

Jasper and Allen had gone in to the house right after the set-to with the Hales, Allen's arm around Jasper, Jasper's ankles hurting…and them not caring for his clothes strewn about the yard, shoes too.

Eventually Edward had to leave Bella and he called to Em to come on to the field. They had left their animals, and their machinery there. So they walked back and on the way Emmett thanked Edward for standing for him. And Edward shook Em's hand with his thumbs bangin' painful.

Edward reckoned Em had stood for himself for he'd taken some pounding, but he'd earned her fair now, Rosalie Hale and that one in her belly, that one he put in…grandchild. Lord.

Em said he didn't ask Shadrach outright for Rosalie's hand, but this was his way showing him he wouldn't cow down cause Shadrach was hard on Rose and Emmett wasn't approving.

Edward respected it. Hard to cotton to a man like Shadrach and Emmett best set the terms way he done. For good life went quick, bad less so and Shadrach could live some yet, see Emmett right out of his prime with misery and Em had no reason to be second to that one. Emmett and Jasper worked hard so this son of theirs didn't have to bow and scrape. Well that's what a daddy done for you if he had sand…and Em got a double portion.

So they'd stood together and it was good, turned out. So they finished in that field and time they made their ways to the barn and finished the chores Jasper left undone, well they washed again and went toward the house, Edward wondering what lay behind that door for no one was on the porch even and it a nice evening. There were good supper smells and they followed those inside.

And it was another set-to had gone on in here seemed. It lingered like the smells that had drawn him of something sweet and something with gravy. Well, Marie was closed in her room. Bella was cooking, but the look she gave Edward said it all, said, we got trouble.

Jasper sat in the rocker there, elbows on knees and one hand gripping that top knot of hair, the other hiding his face. Allen sat in the corner where Emmett used to sleep before they turned into a hotel. His big gun laid right there on the table and looked like he'd…or she'd started to clean it for it was taken apart, but that must of got interrupted for now she sat in the corner atop a pile of letters, a big huge amount, and that one carpet bag open…well why bring all those letters all the way from Chicago? Didn't make any sense at all less it had something to do with Jasper, some kind of proof, and of course it had to do with him.

Emmett walked past these two, as they were clear across the house from one another, and he went to Bella and asked where Rosie was and Bella said, "In Edward's room," which was her room of course, and now Rosie's too? Edward sighed. So Emmett knocked on Bella's door and went on it there and Edward tried not to resent that seeing as he felt like a mouse had more space in this house than him at present.

So he went to his lovely who was stirring grits and…green peppers in them looked like and he did put his hands on her waist and just that, her stepping back to him and him kissing her flushed cheek, just that made the misery pale.

He didn't lift his face but put his lips near her ear and maybe kissed her neck oncet while he waited, then twice more.

"Um…," Bella whispered as she pinched salt from the cellar and cast that over the grits, "Seems Allen…is the one wrote those letters to Jasper…since he…well, she was eight years old. Marie was her father's second wife and Allen…who is Alice, by the way, used Marie's picture and name."

"There's no need to whisper," Jasper said from the rocker, not turning their way. "He's got a right to know seeing as he's put up with the lie same as me all these years."

"There's no reason to carry on like this," Alice shocked the daylights out of Edward by yelling. And she was aiming it at Jasper so apparently the fight in the yard with the Hales had just been warm up. Al…ice still wore her torn shirt and had not cleaned herself, never mind Jasper wasn't much better but someone had fetched his clothes for her wore his pants and his shirt was untucked and he was barefooted still.

Jasper stood and wobbled two or three steps toward that side of the room where Alice sat. "Oh no? Me writing words of love to a child! Played me for the fool is what." Then Jasper walked to the table and one hand on the back of a chair to hold him upright, he waved the other, rolling his hand all dramatically and saying, "Made me a simpering idiot. Worst kind…a simpering idiot."

Edward had never known Jasper to use that handle before, "simpering idiot." Jasper was giving it such note he doubted he'd ever stop hearing it.

"I did not play you the fool," Alice said rising up from the pile of letters she sat amongst like she'd come to life off the page just to rain hail onto Jasper Cullen. "I was just a little girl who saw those poor men headed for that camp and heard the stories folks told and all I could think was how to send some hope to those men for Christmas cause my father was also away in the war and I didn't see battle lines I just saw fathers."

Well Bella clicked her tongue and went from Edward's arms gliding like an angel across the floor to Alice. She threw her arms around that one and cradled her dark cropped hair on her shoulder. Then Edward remembered how he'd slapped Allen, damn hard across the face. But Allen was hell with that pistol. So maybe he'd just let that stand…but damn.

Bella brought Alice to a chair at the table and set her there. Then she returned to the stove and poured a cup of coffee, looking at Edward. She handed Edward that then got another. This she took to Alice. Jasper had gone back to the rocker and his hair pulling.

"When my father came home from the war he was too broken to support us. One of the factories made uniforms converted to men's suits so Marie got on there and when I was eleven I got on. I was so like a boy they often used me for a model. Then they would sketch me for the catalogue. I had my hair cropped and I just went with it, working as a model when I could. Through that I met pattern makers and cutters and so I became that eventually, at another factory, and as a boy. I had no worries back then and if I did, I could find ways…. The pay to cut exceeded what Marie made sewing. I learned tailoring. But it is a man's profession. It is not proper for women to tailor men's clothing. So being Allen made perfect sense. I did not so much become him as…let him out, I suppose.

"I was our sole support at sixteen years of age. Father had been bed-ridden and unresponsive to us for years. He was given to fits, and Marie did nothing but see to his care while I provided. Of course there were no men to come calling, for I not only worked as Allen, but lived as him. My only outlet for my true self…was my letters to you," she said to Jasper. "But after Father died…Marie and I took our scant savings, sold what we had and I came here to meet you. Or…to allow her to meet you. She had been so good to my father. I don't know what I would have done without her. So I thought it only fair you should be able to have the one you'd seen in your mind after all this time. She agreed that if she felt something for you…and if you reciprocated…I would bow out gracefully and go back to Chicago and try to open my own shop. That has been my ambition. But I had also hoped…if you and she did not…I had hoped…somehow I could reveal myself…or better yet…you would recognize me…that somehow your heart would cry out to mine."

Jasper took to rocking furiously though he would not stop staring into the fire. He would not look at Alice.

Poor Marie did not come out of her room. Edward could not imagine how long she'd been in there.

"And I think you have recognized me…even from the start. Ever since that first night your foot slid over and touched mine," Alice said with much emotion.

"It never did!" Jasper yelled looking worried at Edward for just a second, briefly at Alice, then back to the fire.

"Liar!" Alice yelled back rising onto her feet and her ripped shirt opening again and the swell there, like some kind of mummy's corset. Edward looked at the ceiling and decided to see what was on the stove anyway and Bella was there and she pushed him toward the table and Lord, he did not want to go into the line of fire like that, and that crazy one was in his chair, but he took steps there and sat down in the chair felt all wrong and Bella went to the stove to dish his food he hoped.

He noticed Jasper shot Alice a very cold look now, like she'd gone too far. "Who in tarnation you got the sand to call a liar girl? You know what you put me through with your lies?"

"I guess you're about to tell me…again," she said, a warble in her voice.

Now Jasper stood once more and Edward knew a speech was coming. Edward jumped when Bella appeared to set a full plate before him. He was more skittish than he knew with both of them squaring off and him so close.

"I knew the minute I saw you…I knew. It was you. I felt nothing," and now, blue eyes popping, Jasper pointed, finger trembling, toward the bedroom door where poor Marie had taken refuge, "nothing at all for that woman. Fact is…she don't like me either…and fact is…she's about old enough to be my ma. So this plan of yours was never gonna fly. Never gonna fly to begin with. And instead of you comin' to me straight…like you should of…you sent her in front of you…like a coward…a real Yankee coward…you sent that poor lady in so you could hide behind and reject me if I didn't measure up." He folded his arms.

"No," Alice protested loudly and scathingly, "you are making this up…you are creating a worse story than I have told."

Jasper's arms went straight, his finger pointing at the ground, "I am not making up anything I have not witnessed and lived through as God is my witness, girl, you hid like a coward behind that one in there, just like a Yankee, no cause, just pulled off the damn boat and where do I sign for my potatoes, no honor, no dignity…and then you got the sand to try and tell me this was for me? Or for her? You are so full of shit…Yankee shit. Never trust a Yankee. Never ever trust Billy Yank."

Well that word, "Yank," kind of rang around the room and hung there, and Edward took his first big bite of smoking grits hot enough to blow a man's head clean off, and Bella set his cup of water just in time for he downed that in one go.

Bella sat beside him then, no plate for her, her hands folded there on the table and her staring forward, her mouth set.

"Mister Edward," Alice said then her face so red, her eyes firey and wet same time, "Marie and I need passage to Forks so we can take our Yankee selves back to Chicago. Apparently all he wrote about us all being Americans under one God, one flag was just a lot of hooey cause he does purely love the sound of his own hateful, prejudiced words." She put her gun together then, fumbling small hands and quaver in her voice.

Jasper came far as the table then, he put his hand on that gun and tried to get her to lay it down and pay attention. Edward knew he could get this way, Lord he could go on, but he was not given to such except in the most extreme circumstances. With the Hales, and now this.

"And you did touch my foot," she hissed.

"Not with intention," he fired back, both of them touching that gun now, and that's where Edward's eyes stayed mostly.

"With every intention. Cause you were looking at me. You think I don't know? I been around such men…men who let me know…didn't matter I was a boy…they liked it that way."

"You shut your mouth before a lady here," Jasper said, gesturing toward Bella and that one rolled her eyes. For she'd seen such too, she told them about Victor and Laurent. Never made Edward so happy to know they weren't after her that way. Now they could hug forever in that eternal river in the sky…and the one he put them in, too.

"You are such a narrow thinker," Alice said drawing up, hand still on the gun.

"I reckon I must seem so to your likes…Allen!" he yelled back.

Edward blew on those grits and tried again. They were some better now, real delicious with those peppers.

"I thought it was Billy. I like Allen so much better," she said.

"Apparently," Jasper said outraged. "Apparently you do!"

One of the doors to the bedrooms opened. Turned out to be Emmett. He stopped at the stove to dish his supper. Bella got up to help. As he walked to the table with his full plate he said, "Uncle Jasper, you reckon your could keep it down some in here? Rose has a powerful headache."

Bella and Alice sighed in unison.

Jasper said, "Oh, she needs some carrot juice. That'll fix her right up."

"Carrot juice? Is she a rabbit? She needs some gunpowder tea," Alice said.

"Gunpowder tea and her in the family way? We got enough fire crackers round here," Jasper said. He went to the bin by the back door for his small spade and his basket. "I'll go dig some carrots and fix her right up," he said. He went out and Alice looked at the door he'd gone out of and almost threw that gun down and took off after.

Edward lost his breath when she dropped that gun that away and his loved ones so near. By damn.

But with both of them outside it was so quiet Edward's ears felt like his head had been plunged into a great expanse of nothingness.

Bella let out a breath. "That was round two for me."

Emmett kept shoveling his food but he did not look up, just shook his head.

"He'll marry her come Sunday," Em said. "We're gonna have us two weddings around here, you watch."

Edward looked at Bella. He nodded she should tell it.

"Um, Emmett?"

"Huh?" he said still shoveling.

"We…that is…you father and me…."

"Oh now come on," he said laughing. "This Sunday for real?"

Edward grinned big. It was finally out there. He got up then and picked Bella up from her chair and turned round and round, Em laughing and on his feet. He came to them and hugged them while Edward still held her like a bride.

"Hey Pa," Em said when he pulled back, "he's had his rings a long time. What are you going to use?"

Well now that there was a good question.

"And Pa?"

Edward smiled.

"What about that other husband?"

Well, that was a good question too. If you liked good questions. Thing of it was, Bella would be protected in his name, in his vows, in his cove. And he would pretty much live now…to protect Bella.


	25. Chapter 25

Bringing Bella Home 25

Sunday morning brought unusual calm to the cove. Ever since things got out on Friday Jasper and Alice had been following one another through house and garden arguing. Emmett had to check on his still and he took Rosie with him on Saturday planning to meet them at the church come Sunday.

Marie announced soon as the weddings were over she needed passage down the mountain come Monday for she wished to go home to Chicago and stay with her sister.

So the three women settled into baking and preparing for the wedding lunch, and Bella was sewing in Edward's room some of the day.

Sunday morning came and they all dressed in their finest. Edward caught his breath he saw his bride, her looking so sweet in a white jacket buttoned snug over her brown skirt. Well he could scarce believe she would finally be his, and they went to that church house and he was not on this mountain at all but in a new place, maybe heaven for everything looked new and not quite real to him. And so it was they waited, filling one of the pews there, Em and Rose on the end, Jasper and Alice and Marie in the middle, then Bella, then him smashed there on that other end. They waited and they waited, and little children turned to look at him, and folks stared hard at Bella and Alice and Marie, all of the strangers suddenly there. For many a year it had been the two bachelors coming by themselves, Em in tow, Edward walking that aisle. Now they'd sprung womenfolk and one extra even.

So Edward stared right back, he always did, and they waited and finally Brother Conrad stood, he was closest they had to overseer and if the preacher didn't make it Brother Conrad stood in, but he was the boringest man God ever made and he'd give a whole sermon with his eyes closed like he couldn't bear to look at nobody and see how tortured they was while he went on.

Jasper stood and cleared his throat, "Brother Conrad…before you get going there…where in tarnation is the preacher?"

"Apparently he is detained, Brother Jasper. I will fill the gap this Lord's Day, as I have in the past."

"It is not that I am concerned for but we got folks wanting to get married today," Jasper said, and it wasn't lost on Edward that Jasper patted his pocket while he spoke and damn if Edward couldn't imagine those rings he held for his 'dear Marie' in there.

Any head that had not turned their way did so now. And the murmured questions filled this place.

"Well now," Brother Conrad said, "who be these who hope to marry?"

Jasper pointed with the hand held his crushed hat, "There be Edward…you all know him…and Em his boy."

Jasper left himself out of it, and the womenfolk, made it sound like Edward was marrying Em.

"And who be the brides?" Brother asked and there was some chuckle with it.

"Oh," Jasper said, "they are…Isabella…and Rosalie. Some know Rosalie, I'm sure, Shadrach's daughter from Cole's pass yonder."

"And are they believers in the Lord Jesus Christ and his forgiveness?"

Jasper looked at each just to make sure. Bella nodded, and Rosalie said outloud, "Course."

"Alright then. But I am not ordained and so it is Preacher Homes does the marrying you know. Love will hold for another week, I reckon."

Now Edward was on his feet, his hat crushed in his hands as well. Love would not hold for one more week.

"Something on your heart, Brother?" Conrad said looking at Edward like he could say.

Edward was so mad he reached for Bella's hand and she gave it to him and stood and he took her down the aisle and right out the door.

"Brother," Conrad was saying, but Edward ignored that. What kind of madness was this? He came here to get married. Love would hold? He'd like to taken that man's bible and hit him over the head with it a few times.

"Edward…I know you're disappointed," she said and he looked sharply at her. Wasn't she disappointed?

"I'm disappointed too. But…why don't we do this…we'll go back in and do our church with the others, then we'll go home and have our nice dinner, and come tomorrow we'll take Marie down to Forks and we'll go too and try to find the judge."

Well, it all sounded nice as he thought about it, but if he took her down to Forks folks would notice her and anyone came looking and they surely would with her meaning money for those ones in Richmond, then they'd say she was still in these parts, she'd married him and that would be trouble. He'd already shown her here today and word got around but it was less likely to travel as fast as taking her to town. So he stared off and thought it all over. Better to find the preacher, but how to do that? He was most likely at a death bed somewhere or holed up with a broken leg, all Edward knew. Now who could marry them? Well he could bring a judge up here, but still…that one would have to keep his mouth shut and Edward couldn't very well kidnap the man…like he done her. Well it wasn't exactly that…kidnapping.

"I can dress like a boy…like Allen," she said, excited now. "I can lay low and we'll find the judge and we'll do it."

No. They'd still have to give their names.

But what they could do is hop a train, her dressed like a boy, and go to another town, far as they wanted, and get hitched, and have a night or two or three away from here and all the eyes and ears, and then come home man and wife.

This was his wedding. This was his bride. Harvest was upon them, but Em and Jasper could. Jasper didn't like it afield, but he could do it, had done it, many a time. Then Em and Rose could wait for Sunday and he might be back by then, him and Bella, though he doubted it. But this could work. They'd leave Marie in Forks and she could wait for the train, but first one came by for wherever and him and Bella could be on it. She could disguise herself. He pretty much loved this whole notion more he thought about it.

He had money stashed in his can and his two gold pieces. He'd have them a wedding trip.

Well, he figured he'd take the wagon home to pack up and Jasper and Alice could see themselves home with Em. He went back in the church house, interrupted the singing and motioned Marie should come out. She stood, rather unhappy with him, shook out her skirts, and followed him back out, their steps loud as cannon fire on the puncheon boards, and Jasper came too, and the singing sagged some from their show, but church had never been so interesting he reckoned.

Once out Edward motioned to the wagon and pointed at Marie. Bella shrugged and said, "Edward doesn't want to wait until next Sunday…that I know. He wants you to go with us," she said to Marie.

"And do what? This is the first preaching I've got to hear since we left home. What is so urgent I must leave such to go with you?"

Bella looked to Edward. He pointed toward Forks. Jasper took over then. "He wants to take Bella down the mountain to get hitched. Since you are leaving tomorrow," Jasper said to Marie, "he's offering you passage to town one day early."

"But must we leave this minute? Why can't we wait for church to be finished?" Marie said.

Well, they could. Edward didn't want to, he was tired of waiting. He couldn't go back to the cove and wait another week, watching Bella move around him and knowing she was not yet his. He couldn't lay abed for another week and ignore her sleeping in his bed and him not in it beside her. He'd waited…his whole life for someone like Bella. He didn't believe there was someone like this for him. And now that he had her…and nearly got to make the vows…he couldn't go back. He had to keep going forward and that meant marriage as soon as possible. Seems they were still in that river, her rushing down just out of his reach ready to be taken from him forever. He was done treading water.

And that's why they couldn't wait on church.

"He's got it in his mind," Jasper said already leading Marie to the wagon. Edward and Bella followed.

Jasper and Alice rode home with them. Alice didn't want Marie to go so soon so she and that one were in a pretty deep confab. Jasper stayed quiet. Edward reckoned Jasper really did not owe her much as it was Alice he'd always conferred with. Marie had come here by choice, taken a gamble and let it fall where it was always meant.

Nearing the cove, Edward had made it clear Bella needed to dress like Allen. It was simple to convey as he'd pointed to Alice, then his own britches, then Bella.

Jasper laughed. "He wants you to dress like a boy. Yes…I see now. He's taking you off." Then to Edward he asked, "How far you goin'?"

Edward shook his head. He pointed further out, made the sign for train, two hands cupped around his mouth and a big blow, and shrugged. Then he held up fingers, four, five, ten.

Jasper laughed and clapped. Then he calmed some, "Damn though…that leaves me and Em for harvest."

Edward smiled big.

"Where are we going?" Bella asked.

Edward pointed to the sky.

"Heaven?" she asked smiling, steepled hands over her lips.

In return he smiled so big his lips felt stretched, his whole face joined in, and he laughed. It would be heaven. Him and her, no one to answer to, the road, the track, the trail.

It surely would.


	26. Chapter 26

Bringing Bella Home 26

Well, they hadn't been apart for any time at all since they come home, and Edward could see that knowledge in Jasper as he was fixing to say his farewell. Jasper had his hand on Edward's arm and that kind of looking in the eye they both could do.

Alice was staying on. Things were changing and they had to pull apart and let others in for they were two old bachelors and growing strange in some ways. Too strange Edward reckoned. And these mountains were full of 'peculiar,' and they'd not asked permission to be their own brand, but too much of one brand and it got…like them.

Jasper would be alright. This awkward good-bye was part of the reason he'd wanted to take their leave with just Marie, but Jasper had followed.

It helped like anything that Felix had been hanging on their porch when they got home. He did that, came through with no warning, put a couple horses in the paddock and tucked his feet under their table to tell them the news and eat Jasper's cooking, but today Felix seemed to hardly know what with them bringing all these womenfolk.

Well Felix figured right away Marie was the lone sheep. He was a subtle one normally, raised strict. Took himself off to the res most the time and Edward heard rumor he had a woman there, maybe children. But his eyes followed Marie, and Edward cursed himself for never missing anything, even when he wanted to.

So it was Felix took them down the mountain and Edward did not look back as they pulled off for he did not want to make like he was going off to war again or something. This was joyous, dammit.

So he moved Bella close as he could and had his arm back of her and they rode the bed and he pointed out all the things he could not when he'd brought her up for that time had been much struggle, but now, look at them so different, carefree almost.

She had packed one small bag and he had entered her room and had opinion about it for he knew she would not know what, and Alice had helped her with the britches for they were both small and Alice loaned them easy, and one dress, and not that corset, much as it kind of set him on fire to even see it. So it had been and she got it into the one knapsack. He packed another for himself, a clean shirt and some food. And seeing Bella like that, she was cute as a bug and more than that…Lord…beautiful is what, were she to wear a sack like him and Jasper had in Douglas for some time…were she to wear that hateful garment even…her beauty would not dim.

So down they went and he was not shy in being near her and she put her head against him at one point and they were just quiet that way, being close, being hopeful, their hands joined in front, and laying there on her leg. And he compared their size, his long and hers small, and the delicate and the fire in the delicate.

She was already his, he knew, and other than having Em, he'd never done anything important like this. For he'd been denied a place that mattered in the war, he'd been stuck in Douglas, him and Jasper, but what they'd done that mattered was they thought on the cove and what they'd do after. They imagined every piece of it, Jasper did, but him too, drawing it with burned sticks on the walls or in the dirt, and they went over ever bit and they dreamed together, and Jasper would say the day, ever day he'd say, "We got to get up and get that milkin' done." And they'd go shivering naked sometimes into roll, and the feet of swill on every inch of the ground and Jasper would say what he was making for dinner because they already knew what they'd planted and harvested. It sounded crazy, but others listened over the years, and it kept them going, then Jasper added Marie into it, the stories, and pretty soon it was like one long book they lived in.

So he held her now and she was more than story. She was so right in his arms, and her hair blew across his lips for her hat sat beside her, and he left off holding her hand for a minute and touched that hair there, kissed it, then tucked it back behind her shoulder before taking her hand once more.

Marie would have two days in Forks, and Felix vowed to watch over her safety. She seemed agreeable to it. Edward and Bella lucked through. A train waited there, carrying freight down south, plows and such, and Felix spoke with the conductor and he was a veteran, and that's usually all it took and Edward and the boy were able to hitch on for a fair price.

So him and her traveled in a car of freight, in the space on the boxes and he swung that door wide open and they sat there a while, in front of the door, and he stood some and sat some, and she was scooted back a foot, but she got bolder and moved forward, and they noticed how it was, the woods, the growth heavy, even in the trees, a river they crossed once. Headed for Memphis they was, and it looked like Forks mostly, but bigger, and he remembered the marching, with Jasper, the fear and excitement first time they lit out from home. And the battles…city and farm…Tennessee was scarred as him. They had taken it fierce in Tennessee.

He didn't want the sadness of it…he'd had that, more than. Now was a time of joy. Joy was strength. He wanted to be strong. Like him, this land was good. So he pulled her there, on the wooden boxes, his coat down first, he reclined and her beside, a drink to her lips from his canteen. Him drinking after. And he held her there, a king and his queen and all of Tennesse theirs. And anything held onto him that shouldn't, he tried to leave it there, on those tracks, not his memories, they were him, but the feelings that could stop him and trap him, those he tried to look in the eye. He wanted to be a better man, and by that he meant one wasn't closed. And with her…it was possible.

He wanted her, but this otherness broke in him, like with Em only another type of sacrifice. For she was wife…soon would be legal…but in his heart he was with her. So not to press for his own needs…that was what made him believe he could be worthy. He could put her first. He wasn't opposed taking her on a train, oh no. But showing himself he could wait…that was the thing.

For how else could he believe he had enough…value to be given such a one as her. He had to be a man of stalwart character. He wasn't shooting for perfection, forget that. But character…yes.

To his surprise, this was the way of more, not less. She was free now to cuddle on him, and she did, and he liked it so much, and his touches were love and she seemed to realize and she let herself go then and they kissed and she hugged him to herself and he was aware of every turn of her frame, every dip and swell of her, and it was pure bliss to discover so much. She fit him like they'd been tore in half at birth and left to rediscover themselves. And her smell, God close like this he could catch it, just barely but something and he'd been pulled by it at once, but now, with all the fresh air he still buried his nose in her hair and she was like sweet earth. Well God had pulled them both from it…sweet earth, and there it was now all her and feminine and alive.

Well it was not good for man to dwell alone. When would he remember God knew what he was talking about. It had been good to share the cove with Em and Jasper and the critters but there was something…well just her. Just her.

So his hand was free running over her, her face, her neck, the delicate yet strong, her shoulders, her arms all the way to the tips of her fingers. He was worshipping her and taking his time for they had time.

And it was like that all the way to Memphis. He'd got off at one small station to find food and she ran to the outhouse and he'd laughed. And they had waved at the Negros lived along the tracks some back, and they had seen deer in the woods and fields of tobacco and men cutting harvest, and it pricked at Edward some not to be working with them, then he pushed that off. Jasper and Em would do fine.

And they passed one place where they'd fought. He thought it would spark something in him, but it did not beyond a curiosity that it could look so peaceful now and yesterday's terror was today's scant memory and he marveled at that and decided he'd hold off on drawing hard conclusions on some things. Most things maybe. A wait and see was a good way to be most times.

Was that a good war? Was the cause a worthy one? He shook his head. He'd wait and see for he'd be turning that in his mind for the rest of his days and maybe after.

"You are so deep in your thoughts," Bella whispered.

He hoped she didn't feel like she couldn't get in there. It had to be frustrating. Would he speak she would see how many things he forgot to say, probably never would think to say.

He touched her face to let her know he had not left her, not nearly. He took hold of her and hoisted her between his legs so she was laying across his lap. He had his arms around her and she was on her side against him, adjusting her self to be as close as she could be. She looked up at him and he kissed her. They kissed, and they could kiss for a very long time. Hours. They had pretty much, this whole trip, just kissed. For a man who had not had that right or comfort, it was no hardship to set the anchor there for a good spell and with her on him, that was its own discovery. He was in no hurry.

They stopped kissing and he liked the swell on her lips and he knew her face was too pink from his beard and he rubbed there gently. Her cheeks were so soft. He smiled at her to cut some of the intense.

"Say love," she whispered.

His eyebrows shot up.

"Put your tongue between your teeth and say it. There is such a beautiful depth in your voice. I've heard it. I recognize tone and pitch. Say 'love.'"

Did she think he withheld? He did not. How she got anything beautiful out of his wild sounds he couldn't guess. They really were blind in love.

He laughed a bit now, shy maybe, or just…it felt impossible to hear himself say…to unlock it. But hadn't he thought that? Hadn't he known to be better he had to try?

"Put your tongue between your teeth," she coaxed again, her face so close her breath fanned his lips.

So he did that and she looked there. Her hand on his stomach now. "Breath in, all the way in," she whispered, and it felt like something more, something between them.

He took it in and let it out slow and first time nothing. Then he did it again, more self-conscious this time and feeling her stare, and not concentrating. But the third time in, on the out, the L sound.

It overwhelmed him, and tears sprung to his eyes and he crushed her against him, and she struggled to press her lips on his, and he kissed her madly.

And he saw them then, the lot gathered in that train car on the way to Douglas, and Jasper not lifting his head, not looking, and him nudging his brother with his foot, and their feet chained one to another, and Jasper looking at him and just that…Jasper's face and eyes and him with no way to protect his brother, or himself, and his vow then, his vow he wouldn't let anything happen to them, nothing. It was not for Tennessee now. It was for them.

And he felt the miles between him and Jasper, first time, in that old way that kept them tethered, but she put her hands on his cheeks and made him look in her eyes, and he saw her too, and he wanted this so badly, and they were here now, and free. For all the fighting, they were free to love each other like this. And so he looked at her, and her eyes, and he gathered his breath again, and he let it out slow, so slow, and like a garment pulled out of a trunk, cracked and folded and stiff, his voice whispered a word, moths practically flying out of his mouth, but he said it against a throat trying to close its lid, but still he pushed it out, "Love."

And he had never spoken so true.


	27. Chapter 27

Bringing Bella Home 27

Edward and Bella disembarked the train in Memphis, and they walked close to one another in the hub-bub. The tracks were east. Those tracks linked Memphis to the Atlantic, he knew, and he wondered what it would be like to ride out west like that, all those miles and wild country. He looked at Bella, well she was his wild country now.

Memphis was a big place. They lost it in '62 to the Union forces, and he didn't want to think of what came after that.

The stock pens were right near the tracks, and men congregated here and there to mull over their cattle. Goods were piled to be loaded or because they were recently unloaded. Some crops bundled and stacked, mostly cotton from what he could tell, and plenty of it, well it funneled here pretty much he always heard. No wonder this place had grown so. People milled about so much he could barely relax, was trying not to startle with Bella able to see, but he was so tense he wanted to grab onto her and keep her close.

Passengers waited to board, and trunks and bags were held in neat stacks on dollies. It was noisy and the smells were new, a mix of earth and animal, machine and man. Forty thousand lived here, they said, and there were free schools, one for blacks Esme said, and he knew she pined for Jacob to have such a time.

Seemed like it being a workday there shouldn't be so many about. But then it wasn't all farming…not all of it. Lots of these folks worked. Lots of freedmen here seemed like. Well the south found a way to carry on.

Bella had her hair tucked under her hat, cute as she could be. When they made ready to jump off the train he had shouldered both of the knapsacks piled there by her feet and she said, "No way in this life you're taking both," and she grabbed hers back and put the strap on her shoulder and she smiled at him, and he had to shake his head and smile back.

So he caught himself over and over getting ready to put his arm around her cause of his nervous heart and then he was plain spoiled from the ride, but it was hands to himself again now, her looking like a boy, so they followed along, and walked a piece. It felt good to walk after all that time riding.

Up ahead, right off he saw a boarding house. That might do but he was partial to the notion of the Gayoso House for it had indoor plumbing and he was about fascinated to think of such. But part of him hated to think of staying someplace used by the Yanks for headquarters during the war. He hated the story of the Yank Cap Forrest riding his horse in the lobby there, that Yank arrogance. But an indoor privy…he'd like to see it.

Well a sign on the street took his notice. It read, "Yellow Fever abated." Good to know that. He didn't need to be bringing Bella into plague. He shuddered to think of such.

But it was a preacher they needed first, well he did. Or a judge. But what caught him most was the houseboats on the river, and it had been some years since he'd seen one, but now, Lord, there were a bunch. And a couple of them had signs said, "Goin' south," or "Up river passage," so they were selling passage, and he started to feel pretty inspired right off. They could take a trip on one of those, get married and sail the river a spell, a few days. There was nothing like it, floating along and not a care.

But further down, the river boats, two of them ahead, big wheels in back to push them along, double smoke stacks in front and several stories tall, long as Noah's ark must of been.

These went all the way to New Orleans, and that would take some days, some weeks, and they had not carved out so much time, but they could go some on one of them, south a ways, then back again. They could do that though they had not the duds for it he didn't reckon. But those ships had captains could marry them. So he pulled her that way, took her hand right there and she tried to pull away and remind him she was a boy now, but he was so excited he pulled her along and no one cared or paid them mind for he looked old enough to be her pa, or fierce enough.

He pointed ahead and she said, "The Memphis Belle?" and he nodded, but he did not stop walking. "Edward stop!" she commanded.

He did stop and looked at her.

"Are you wanting to get married aboard a big old boat?"

He nodded.

"Can I change out of my britches first!"

He put his hand over his mouth. He had not cared about that. He thought of the captain marrying them this way and he laughed behind his hand.

"Are we going to stay on this great tub or room here in town?"

Well, he threw his weight to one leg and pointed at her. What did she want?

She looked at the boat and chewed her lip. "I've always wanted to travel on a big boat like this. How big is it, Edward?"

He held up two fingers.

"Two hundred feet?"

He nodded his yep. It was more than that.

"Well…if it's leaving soon…maybe we can get a room and travel a ways. Can we get back?"

He would see. He started to walk and turned toward her enough to make sure she followed. Their boots were loud on the ramp leading to the entrance to the Memphis Belle and it pitched right over the water and there was no rail either side, just a wide plank it was, and she was walking slow with her arms out, and he laughed and took her by the arm, and she laughed some but she was pale and said, "I don't like this."

On board the man there was telling others that other side of the river, the Pride of St. Louis, was going north. It was a shorter trip and they had room. The Memphis Belle was booked full.

He looked at Bella and raised his brows and she shrugged. Well The Pride of St. Louis would suit them then.

So they ferried over the river staring at the big old beast that would take them to marital utopia. They found a man there already talking to some others about securing passage. Edward listened and he didn't like the idea of going north, had pretty much decided he never would again, but he did want to see the country and what better time than this? So soon as the man could give them his attention they purchased two tickets for that passage and its return to this port in one week. He motioned Bella should ask about the captain marrying them and the fella said he did so all the time, nearly every trip in fact, and they should come aboard early and they'd get them hitched.

Hot damn Edward almost danced to shore. They had two hours before they were to board and that meant a trip to the bathhouse and the general store. He needed a ring. So they ferried back over the water.

At first he thought to surprise Bella, but decided instead to allow her to pick out the ring she fancied. So they went in the store and he got it across to see rings and the man there lifted a tray from behind the counter. Bella decided quick, taking a small silver band with a little winking jewel on it. It was seven dollars and fifty cents.

Then they looked for duds, and she chose a white shawl, and he bought a tie and some food stuffs which they ate on the porch, then he took her to the rooming house where she ordered a room and a bath, and he left her there with many kisses, and he hurried to the barber, and not only had his hair cut and his beard shaved, he took a bath in back and dressed well as he could, that ring in his pocket.

He picked her up in the lobby and he could smell her sweetness soon as she got close. She had piled her hair on her head and she wore that white shawl over her blouse and her wrinkled skirt, and he was the luckiest man God ever thought of creating to give him such a one as her.

And he gave her his arm and took both the knapsacks then and they rode the ferry once more then made their ways on board The Pride of St. Louis and she was not afraid on the plank for she was tucked up against him now, and would be forevermore, he would soon vow.

Such a sense of adventure settled on him he wondered he'd been so content with the sameness for so long. They walked that deck and up the stairs to the second tier where their room was.

Beyond that door their suite awaited, a delight to the senses. He was not one for doodads, but he had to admit, this was so fine it's like he was Jesus come out of a manger for most his life.

The bed was high off the floor, making a big show with posters at the corners, Lord, and it was fine with him, the stage for his love-making, and it was just about perfect, lacking only her and Lord his legs felt weak to think it.

That high fluffy tick was covered in a rose colored spread and pillows, she said right off there were six, and two stately armchairs looked like Jefferson Davis himself might have used, and a thick rug on the floor, just soft looking, softer than his bed at home he reckoned.

Fresh towels and a basin, then a bath could be ordered cause they had their own tub there waiting, and they would be doing that for sure. Lord he couldn't think about it.

They put their baggage in the room and closed the door and he took her arm and stopped all the flurry for a second, and he touched her face and kissed her there, and others were coming to find their rooms, and him and her flattened against the wall and his stomach clenched folks he didn't know so close, and his arm was in front of her protectively.

The man lifted his hat, the woman nodded and he did the same, touched the brim of his hat and Bella nodded, and he took her hand and pulled her forward to follow the man's direction to the captain's office.

The captain put on his coat when he saw them and introduced himself and Bella introduced them and they shook hands all around. The captain called a witness then and produced a paper and they stood before him and it hit Edward all at once, the jitters, and he took her small hand and she smiled at him, looking serene and sure, and it calmed him, her lips mostly. She wanted this, too.

The captain stood before them, glass behind him, and the river there, that river. Edward pushed off the thought he'd nearly killed Bella in the river. Now why think of such a fool thing?

The captain read the vows and she spoke firm, I do, and he nodded for his part, and he meant it for sure. They were pronounced husband and wife. Such a breath came out of him he nearly deflated right there. It was done. Oh God above she was his.

They shook hands around once more and Edward felt barely there, just more relieved and scarcely able to believe they'd done it. They'd made the vows.

He ushered Bella out of the room and he was caught up in a cloud, her the center of it, all his attention on her thick brown hair piled that way on her small head, so artfully. He had to stop her in the hall and hold her face, and she smiled just for him, his smile, and he never wanted to take such a look off her face by word or deed. He would spend his life now keeping that smile in place.

Folks were boarding and moving around them, for they departed in the morning. Bella was telling Edward there was supper in the dining room, and he followed her there like a beast on a tether. They entered that room and the hum of lots of voices, people sharing big tables and white coated waiters, Negroes carrying heavy trays laden with food, and the smells of meat and gravy and pomades and the river itself.

Big paintings and tapestry, gold everywhere. And her head leading him through to a table marked with the number of their cabin, and others sat there, the ones they'd seen in the hall and two others, man and wife, white hair on both.

And Bella did say, it was their turn to speak, we were just married and the other two couples picked it right up like they were friends all the way before Douglas, and the older one ordered a bottle. Well he did not want to share this moment with them, and it pained him some to do so.

They were toasted and they drank, and it went down smooth, smoother than white lightening for sure, and lots of laughter then, and her answering all their questions, and saying Edward was a man of few words, and more laughter, though she had not meant it to joke. "A better man than my husband does not walk this earth," she added, her chin high and her lips in that smile he'd no inclination to share.

Well she was like the bell of the damn ball. She was so gracious and sanguine, and he was a turnip, that's all.

They caught on then he wasn't just being shy. But he did not like folks he didn't know being so close in his business. He never got in confabs such as this, for this was like Douglas, just fancier.

He hoped he wasn't an embarrassment to her. For his clothes were not fine, not by any means, and he was…himself. But he'd seen the barber so he was neat and presentable, and he felt someone's foot creeping up his leg, and it couldn't be Bella's by logistics, but across from him the one they saw in the hallway, her smiling bold at him, her husband beside her none the wiser as he had drank down three shots of that liquor, and Edward drew his leg back and looked at her fierce.

She smirked at him, the big flowers on her hat bobbing, her challenging him seemed like, and it was all he could do not to call her out. But he couldn't, so he stood, it was time for them to go, past time, he wanted his bride and not this, not them. And Bella was on her feet quick and saying her goodnights, and him helping her with her shawl and bidding them farewell with the curtest nod.

He didn't care a feather for their company. Bella went to the waiter and ordered their supper be brought to their room. Well, she knew how to do things, he saw that. She'd lived pretty much like this, and it hit him solid to think it. She was used to finery. What must their cabin looked like to her, their cove, prettiest place in the world…to them. But what had she thought? He'd compared it to that shanty those two he killed held her in. But before that shanty she'd had a grand life, gilded like that room, full of those kinds, all kinds he reckoned. She told him…all those faces turned to her. Lord. Give him Douglas, almost, over that. Well not Douglas. But give him another kind of life than that for sure. But her, she was made to be worshipped, he knew that. How had he the guts to make his move for her? He couldn't believe it himself and why did she respond? Maybe she was just that afraid of Charles Swan and she figured he could protect her, except that time he'd nearly let her drown. It didn't make no sense she would want him, his leg so stiff and him just fairly young still…but taciturn.

About that time she turned to him and got on her toes and pulled him down, reaching under his coat and grabbing his suspenders to do it, and she smashed her lips on his. "Stop it," she said when she broke it off.

Well he was pitching forward in his mind and he did weave a little and not from that liquor, but she about took him to the floor with that kiss.

He nodded. How did she know? It's like she could hear his thinking and only God was supposed to be able, but it's like she could listen in.

So did something then almost made him go blind it was so unexpected, she put her hand there, on his manhood, just right there like the fig leaf Adam wore she did it. Then she smiled at him. "She might of touched your leg all up and down…and he did mine…but no one can touch you like this but me."

Well he couldn't believe his ears. So many things hit at once, wanting to go back to that table and beat the living shit, to steal her phrase, out of that one who put his big fat foot on her beautiful leg…his wife! The fact she knew that other was playing footsie games with him. The fact she knew how to touch him there so well and where in the world did she learn such, his almost-virgin and all. The fact he was wild now to get to their room. The growing notion he did not know her very well at all…but he planned to, oh yes. All this ganging on him, circling him and shouting.

Now he pulled her. He knew his way and he was not Mary's lamb. Not a bit.

They got to their room there in that row of fine polished doors and brass, him taking charge of the key, pocketing such, and inside, on the table some nice fruit, apples and an orange and a sign congratulations, and her saying, "How nice," as she threw off her shawl and started on her buttons right off, turned to him and saying, "Get it off, Mr. Cullen."

And he came too then. Lord. Get it off?

And he did start to peel off then, right quick. He liked it direct, but she was laying dynamite in his skull the way she was doing. He wondered had that liquor hit her hard…no supper and her so small. That must be it.

Before he could peel off his longjohns a knock on the door and she squealed, in her chemise and drawers only and ran to the bed and scrambled under the covers, such a sight he was frozen a minute, then another knock, less patient, and he cracked the door, and there was a man holding a tray, their meal upon it. He was not coming in with her in the bed there, so Edward took that and nodded adieu and kicked the door closed.

He set it on the table there between those two chairs, dishes clinking, scooting that congratulatory fruit bowl aside.

Then he locked the door and turned to her. He saw the pile of white beside the bed where she'd finished the job of peeling down, and he knew she waited bare for him, and he almost tore his longjohns off, then his drawers too. He couldn't smile. He'd never been more serious.

She looked like he was the one now…to be worshipped.

Well, he didn't think so much of himself, but he knew he was no dog cause he'd seen so many and he took his place, always did, and came to strength…he went head of the line mostly.

So he tried not to run to that bed, but he did anyway, and he dove under, and he got stopped short, all that creamy skin next to him, and it his now…well bible said they belonged to one another. God first, sure, that set the rules, but to each other now, a gift from Him, and he believed it.

"Oh," he said aloud.

"Edward," she whispered. Well, she just brought it out of him.

She was the most beautiful, sinful, soul melting creature. She was the crown in that garden of Eden. All creation just led up to her for there was nothing…nothing in his life could be close to her.

He wanted to thank her. But there were no more words at the moment, just…he felt some tears. He didn't care.

"You're…." she touched his cheek, and she looked touched. He pulled her to him then and oh God above the comfort of her against him. He groaned again. There was no stopping him.

"Edward," she said, discovery in her voice, like she was just realizing what she meant to him.

Her hand went back between him and she touched him there, and he was hard there but it was right she should know the effect. Nothing tepid in him, nothing passive. She brought the fire, she stirred it. He would always want her. Always.

So they kissed a long time and her on him, he pulled her right on him, and her hand stayed on him and his were over her, fast and slow, light and pressing, he just let himself meld with her like this, and she laid on her back and he discovered that mole under her breast, and her breasts and her nipples, twin fawns, bible called them, and he smiled for that surely said it for beauty and sweet and captivating to him.

She was the one to open herself and put him at her place of taking him in, and he did hold himself above her, hold off his weight while he tried to find the way in, it was smaller than he imagined for they had not been together but twice and it a while back, but he was ready and he pushed in and felt the reluctant give, and her unsure then, but determined. She bossed him some and he was a good listener, but he had the confidence now, and he kissed her, and she had sweat on her pretty face, and he was breathing, like bellows he breathed, he let her grow used to his invasion, and he moved when she said and stopped when she yelped and he felt the reluctance, then the surrender, bit by bit, and she'd get ahead of herself and want him, then he'd go forward, and he knew how battles were won by inches and never backing up, and he laughed for joy some and he felt sweat his own skin, and she laughed with him and they kissed again cause she was so damn small and it was so damn wonderful, all of it, his joining with hers, and it was one of the wonders of the world, and it was, he knew, and finally he was in, all the way in, and he just moved a little and saw how she took it, and a frenzy was trying to come, but the thought of hurting her held it away for he was no kid, and he eased back and she was boss, she said oh, and oh do it, oh, but he knew to keep it slow and go shallow, and he did, and then he went in again and felt himself flush with her, skin on skin, on skin, on skin, and its like the deep hot boil came out of the earth then, and he shattered and shuddered and cried out his word, and she answered she loved him, and she gripped the trembling cords in his arms and pressed kisses against the ones in his throat. He was hers, he was God's, he was this earth's, he was a man.

And he ended up laughing a little, still inside her, and she asked what, and he couldn't say, but he'd wanted the indoor plumbing, to see, to know, and in a way, he'd got it alright, but better….


	28. Chapter 28

Bringing Bella Home 28

Edward never thought he'd see the day he had so much opportunity for love making he'd have to sit out a spell and smoke something.

He was doing that now. A cigar. Someone had offered him one day before as news traveled on the ship and folks tittered about how many meals him and his missus took in their rooms since they were newly married.

He could about throw up thinking of the interest in his and his wife's business went on at that table he planned to never eat at again, reason being he didn't want to consort with those kind, the nosy soulless.

But they'd run their mouths apparently and now him and Bella were the hardy-har of the ship.

Well he was sour puss on them, but it didn't take much as he was not a lover of mankind particularly, but he spit over the balcony and let it drop those two stories to the water and they were high up alright.

That cigar was a taste a man could get used to. Cuban, the fella said. Well he'd been living with his head in a barrel on so many things.

So he contemplated much as he watched a colored boy in a straw hat wave from the shore while the boat went lazily by. He wondered that boy ever thought he'd do something so grand as travel this river in such a beast as this boat. Well boy, he thought, never saw myself doing it either or anything much, but he would be different now, and Emmett and Jacob wanted to try things out, he'd stop telling them why they couldn't. He'd been too much that way thinking he was helping, but it was more fearful than anything, he was honest, and he didn't want to speak from that when the world was so grand and they had a right to their own mistakes and who knew…maybe things would turn out. Well, they did usually.

His woman. Bella. A wildcat. Here he feared he was wanting too much. He reckoned a man got to have such a sweet release as he'd had with her, it should be enough for that day.

Well he reckoned so, but he wasn't sure. In the camps he heard it all, but that was just so much boasting. And this was his wife. His Bella. But that one day, yesterday, three times. He was just a rutting beast, that's what. And then this morning, yes he was ready, always was it seemed, even now he kept thinking about it, but she started it, and here he was thinking she was going to want to jump off this boat just to get away and save herself, but then she had pressed up on him, and her hands, so bold all the time. God he loved it. Loved her. He just had no idea. Well she'd held herself so long…and he wondered how with her…proclivity…to be so warm. But now…she wasn't shy. Not at all. Maybe working the stage back in Richmond broke her down. She said she hadn't liked it, but still she'd had to get used to it. And she dressed pretty lewd as she'd shown him that time she took off her dress and danced and then fell out the mow.

The thought of her having to do that, he'd never just be fine with such. Well it made him mad. But he knew being mad about things already done was about futile. But still, there was no other way to feel about it.

He'd killed those two scalawags, and that was always his consolation. But if there was any splinter of guilt it was long gone now. She was nothing but reward. Perfect. She was perfection, his girl. So he smoked that cigar and he felt like a king, like a damn king. And he knew moment he got back in that room it would start again, this wild thing between them.

So time he got in there she sat in the shirt she made him, his other, and it just brought back from the boys did laundry on this tanker, and she sat there in it, nothing else, it open and he saw that white creamy skin, and she was eating an apple, for they kept them in there pretty much, and cutting off pieces of it.

"Come here," she said laying down the knife and licking juice off her fingers, "and let me feed you some of my apple." And same time she held that slice toward him she pulled that shirt open and there was that fawn, it's nipple so rosy he swallowed then and started to pull things off cause this is how it went. His flesh, her flesh, together.

Their greatest exertion was love-making. Other than that they were lazy as a hound dog and its bitch. They went on deck and shared one chair a body could lounge in. Folks who passed them smiled and twittered some behind their hands, and they cared not.

Or they sat in an upright chair and he held her. They looked at that bank rolling past until they were fair in a loved soaked trance from it and each other.

If they shared a blanket, her hand was on him in that way, and he took liberties too, and it was bliss the secrets they shared.

Then her bleeding came and she stayed curled on her side, and he tried to be kindly. Well he liked taking care of her like this too, and he held her in their room that first day. She lamented, and she kept her used rags in a bag and wouldn't let him send them to wash, Lord no, they had to be done away with or she would die of shame, and he ripped towels for her, then ordered more. Night come he took that bag to the rubbish chute himself, no big thing to him as he'd seen as bad a man could see and live and this was nothing, but not to her. To her…end of the world.

And she cried some, and he'd let her know he was ready to listen, to hear. Long as she didn't regret they'd married, even then, he'd stay in the corral and try to ride it out. But she stayed cut off from him pretty much, not even pretending to be glad to see him, and barely a smile, and he reckoned she got this way and he'd learn, try to get out front of it somehow one of these days.

So the last two days were that, her curled up and him patient and attending. Time they docked in St. Louis for their day, she didn't want to go. Her stomach hurt.

Well he was some disappointed and wondered should he seek out a doctor. He sure did want to see St. Louie with her on his arm. He wondered she wouldn't feel better if she just got herself together and they could walk slow, take it slow. He'd help her, and they could come back here, so he picked her skirt off the chair and tried to cajole her, but she wouldn't listen or give him some hope.

So they spent that day on the boat, and she'd tried to get him to go on, and said it so many times, and he was not going to leave her like this.

So that and come evening, well they were leaving in the morning to head back to Memphis, and some had got off and others got on, and come evening and him just seeing St. Louis from the deck in front of their room, he took that last bag of her rags down to the place to put trash so it would burn and he almost threw that bag in, but it was one he'd seen her use, one held things in her knapsack so he reckoned he'd just empty it and save it, bring it back to her, so he started to shake the contents into the hole and one of those rags fell on the floor instead, and he thought, Lord, she'd kill me she saw this and he went to pick it up…and there was no blood.

And he wished he hadn't thrown in those others, but he had. But on this one…no blood at all, and he was some surprised, but not so much he thought, for it could be in there for any reason so he shut the door to the chute and went back to their room.


	29. Chapter 29

Bringing Bella Home 29

Edward went to sleep troubled that night. They would pull out in the morning and head back to Memphis. He wanted to hold her while they slept, like they'd been doing, but she pushed away and said, "Edward…I just don't feel good. I'm…I'm sorry."

So he'd turned away onto his side and was glad he didn't have to try and hold his tongue for he surely would not have. He didn't want it to be like this, not ever. Good book said work on your anger before the sun set and if this was something more, she needed to tell him. But he reckoned she wasn't in a hearing mood so he'd let it go until morning, but come morning she was going to tell him, dammit.

Then he felt the bed shake for she was crying again, and he'd had enough, and he rolled to her and he pulled her against him and she tried to fight it and he wouldn't let her go. "Don't," she said, her face tear streaked.

He took her hand. He held it tight he knew, but it was that ring he held, lifting her arm by it, making her take note. They were married. It meant something, right now, with this it meant something.

"You think I'm sorry?" she said upset, but he'd take it, it was something.

He glared at her, wanting her to spill.

"I just need some time to think. You been all over me," she yelled there in his face.

Well this he could not believe. He could not believe his ever-lovin' ears. He dropped her arm like it was the wrong end of a branding iron. He was on his feet quick and then tearing his scathing look away from her and looking round for his britches.

Well he asked for it didn't he? She had jitters…or something…something hellish and wrong. She wanted him to stop, "bein' all over her," then she would have that at least, oh yes she would. He found his clothes and his boots and getting all ready, coat too for it would be chilly as get out sleeping in that deck chair and this would give those tongues something now, and one look at her laying on her side, her hair wild and spilling, her eyes on him tough as nails and her mouth set. Well by damn see you in the morning and he was out.

He went on the deck and at first he went clear around the other side of the boat. He didn't want anywhere near her. But he wasn't there five minutes, leaning on the rail there looking at the landing, not five minutes and he said, hell and damnation and went back near their room there and got in that lounge chair he'd shared with her those times and plopped down so miserable. No wonder married men were quiet and grim. Who knew the suffering going on inside, trying to know a woman that a way, so close, and getting his liver scratched to bits for his trouble.

He crossed his boots at the ankle. He'd been doing fine 'fore this. Not hardly bad at all. Em and Jasper…they just was what they was. Some days good, some bad, nothing brewing you couldn't see coming, couldn't even imagine.

Complicated. Like some horses bred for a certain thing, and persnickety…Lord. Beautiful sometimes, but nature wise…watch yourself. Maybe she was like that…being so beautiful, and this came with it. Maybe that's why most wives he'd seen just let the beauty go and die, cause they was taking care of the more sanguine side…the getting along parts.

Hell he had no idea. He rubbed his eyes. No idea at all. To be this old, have gone through so much and to know nothing. There weren't a woman in Douglas, then the cove. Before that…what? Em's ma? Hardly one to learn on, though she'd taught him some about life, she surely did that cold teated bitch.

Should of known then women were trouble. Just trouble. But oh God…two days ago he was in the Garden, he was. How could they go from that Garden to this desert? From Adam and frolick to Moses in two damn days?

Self pity was it's own kind of blanket after a while and Edward fell asleep he reckoned for next he knew that whistle up top blew and he thought Jesus had returned the way he made a sound of woe on the wake-up.

Where the hell was he? On a boat is what. Shores of St. Louie which he seemed destined not to see. He was married and she had rejected him. Oh he remembered now and he groaned as he rose so stiff and painful off that chair and him wet with dew like some kind of civil war monument to Douglas.

Oh God. Bella. He hadn't meant to sleep out here all night like this, had he? Whatever brought him out seemed gone now and he hurried in to the corridor to find his cabin and start afresh with his bride.

He tried the door and it was locked. Well that was her being wise is all. He knocked there and waited, and others passed and he kept his head down, staring at that knob awaiting its soft click that would lead him to newness.

And he waited some more. And knocked gently again as folks made their ways around him, going for breakfast. That knob was dead in his hand.

He knocked once more. If he had his voice at hand he'd say, "Bella? Darlin' it's me."

And she would know it was not a man of war seeking to come in, but him, hat in hand, crawling need be.

No heartbeat in this brass. In this door. In the room beyond. He knew.

She was not in there, and it's all he could do not to ram that wood with his shoulder and break through and scald himself with the empty truth.

She probably went on to breakfast without him…in the dining room. He'd been holding her hostage. Oh God, he put his forehead on the door. She had felt imprisoned by him. That was it. That was it. She had gone back to that time in the shanty. Just like he went back to Douglas, he least expected it. Sometimes it got set off and you were back. Sometimes the same thing you done before that didn't bother those memories at all, next time out of nowhere, you were back. That's what had happened. He knew she had prisoner-mind. He watched her glee over being set free, but he knew it all came rattling back, rushing back to be dealt with, or like a scream you hadn't quite got out yet, he knew.

She'd had prisoner-mind and it got ahold of her. It wasn't his fault. It just was. Well he'd see her through it. He would. She may have faked her woman's time even. She just needed him to go away and didn't want to hurt him. She had been enjoying their loving, he knew she had. It all made so much sense, he felt tears in his damn eyes and he wiped those now and laughed a little. What a relief. He'd help her with this. He understood. He did if anyone could, it was him. Yes, he could see God gave her to him now, Douglas was all worth it for him to have this understanding for her.

Such relief it almost buckled his knees. But he knocked once more, the sound so hollow, but he wanted to make sure. She was most likely in the dining car. He even knew she would want to show him she needed to get out and she liked dining cars and folks at her elbow and their nosy questions. She was showing him that now in her state of mind, but he knew what it really was, her trying to find some solid ground under her feet after the fear had come on her, fear of what those two did holding her prisoner.

He would face that table gladly. He cared not about any of that. Whatever she wanted. Whatever she needed to feel better. She would find him so understanding he would pose no further obstacle for her to overcome.

So he went with the flow of folks the nearer he got to that great room and he went in there, and moved across the shiny floor to that part of the room where their table was, and just that old man and wife were there, and him already bent over his plate and her blabbing away with a man stood there. But no Bella.

Well, she could be anywhere if he thought about it. She didn't have to be here necessarily. She could be just anywhere on this big old tub.

So he left that room like a fish swimming against the current, he moved through those folks and ignored any spoke to him, for he had one face in mind, only one he cared about, and she was no where to be seen, but he'd find her. He would. And they'd be closer for this. Closer.


	30. Chapter 30

Bringing Bella Home 30

After searching every floor of that boat, a word came out of him. "Bella."

He started to call her. First it was just a miserable sound, just garbled, but learning 'love' he had the L, he had that, and he had the a of a sudden. By the time he finished looking, she would have known it enough could she answer.

He went to the captain, well they led him there for the boat was astir him carrying on. He'd started bursting into rooms, looking in holds passengers weren't allowed in, showing up in all the places went on behind what folks knew, the scullery, the waiter's quarters. Some of them were sympathetic, but he looked crazy, it didn't take much, and what folks thought was she run off, and looking at him desperate and mean, who could blame her is what he knew they said.

Well the captain was very kind, but it didn't mean shit to Edward, nothing did. Find her, was all he could think. Shut your yapper and look. So the captain had men looking and in an hour there had not been a crate hadn't been turned out, and the captain regretted he could not hold up the boat, not for anything, but he gave Edward guidance about who to go to, and how to get help and he was filled with regret, and anything else he could do he would.

But Edward had him announce it, and everyone was to look if they wanted to get to Memphis and get shod of him, they had to look or he wasn't going anywhere, but nothing, they'd seen nothing, they knew nothing.

And there was that one looking at him, that woman that run her foot up his leg first day, and that fat one she was married too who wouldn't look, he went straight to them and stood there and the fat one tried to talk casual, but he saw fear in that woman. And he let it go then far as the captain was concerned and shook his hand and made like he was sanguine, but he followed those two and then went to their room and he pushed in after and that man tried to say, "What," but that's all for he got his arm against that fat one's throat, and he pushed and he didn't need to ask, and she hit Edward with something across his shoulders and he left off that fat one and pulled his knife on her and held it firm against her throat and now they'd see.

And that man started to yell for help and he threw that bitch aside and went to him and backhanded him across his jowl so hard that man flew to the floor, then turned to catch that bitch holding a pistol on him, "You get out," she said like he was slime, and he stepped toward and slapped that from her but it went off and he slapped her hard too and that fat one jumped on his back and Edward turned and smashed him against the wall and things shook and fell, and two waiters and the watchdog then, him in a black suit and they ushered Edward off, and he figured those two knew and he'd be back.

So there it was. He was in St. Louis now, that river there, that dark moving water.

And soon as he was took off the boat they guarded that plank. He went to one of the houseboats and threw them money and they got that boat they towed behind and the mister and him paddled and the Pride of St. Louis was tooting its farewells and him and this colored man worked those oars to get along side that fancy tub just as it was going, and staying clear of that big paddle wheel Edward pulled and pulled those oars and got alongside and jumped up and got ahold of a fancy carved angel and climbed up to the rail and took hold and over he went onto the first deck and he pulled his hat low and made his way up the stairs to second deck and back in that long corridor of walnut doors and rooms behind.

He kicked through the door of that man and woman he targeted. The woman was alone now and she started to scream before he had his hands around her throat and dragged her to the bed there, grand as the one he shared with Bella, but they about knocked the tick clean off they tusseled so hard and he used all his strength on her and it was evil as could be and he cared not, him on her throat his weight behind it. About the time she must of saw that black robed devil waiting to take her he let off her throat and put his hand hard over her mouth, and her gasping and his finger to his lips she should stay quiet, oh she should.

That door nearly torn off they'd be seen soon enough, and his knife out again and he meant it…he meant it, he'd killed men before, in their beds more than once they posed a threat to him or Jasper, and it weren't so nice as this knife, what he used, he could kill with anything, his comb, a spoon, his own boot, especially his hands bad thumbs and all and she just knew.

He let his hands up and she pulled for air some and he waited next to nothing.

"I don't know anything," she said, her voice raspy and that kind of thing could kill you later once the swelling came.

He slapped her face the way he'd slap a man.

Blood poured from her lip. "Go on and kill me. They'll do it anyway. Go on and do it."

He slapped her again. He might. He could.

"You don't know who you're dealing with. You'll be dead just like me," she said, and she was mad enough she started to fight him again.

He got off her then and stood looking and she stayed on her back, trying to breathe, her hands over her neck. He heard people in the hall. They'd seen some.

She sat up, and her face was red and swelling. "You think you can do anything about this?"

He only had hope. Bella was alive. She wasn't in that river, not nearly. He'd been wrong about everything. He reckoned they wanted her dead that's what he'd of found in their room. But she wasn't dead. That's all he needed to hear for now.

He turned and went out. Men tried to stop him but he shrugged them off. Back of this boat, way back, was the rowboat he took to get on this tub of disaster. Soon as he got on deck he leapt over the railing and someone screamed, another said, "Man overboard."

As he swam, still wearing his hat, his boots, everything, he reckoned these folks would not forget him soon. Well, that bitch was in on it wouldn't.


	31. Chapter 31

Bringing Bella Home 31

Still soaking wet Edward sat on the wharf there and stared at that river and all the comings and goings upon it. From behind some old blind veteran sang and played the mandolin and people put money in a cup.

Edward pictured himself holding cords, lines of truth he already knew. What did he already know?

Bella could of left as boy or girl. She could have left on her own or been taken. She could be in that river, she could be in the city, she could have hidden on that boat and be headed right now back south him sitting here like an anchor of confusion.

She could be on a train, she could be on a coach. She could be on a horse. She could strike it for Richmond, she could strike it for her mother if consumption hadn't got her already, she could strike it for somewhere new.

All of these cords in his hand. Which did he want to follow down? First off…was she dead? Was she killed and found? His stomach clenched and he held the sound of angry despair. He would go to the law and see if she was brought in.

He had to face it. His mind wanted to narrow. His mind wanted to say she got took. But he had to keep knowing…she might of lit out. That more likely even, but he didn't know.

She had pulled away. Those on that ship got to her. When? Where were they from? Someone, something on that ship turned her, those two he beat? And she played sick cause she was sick. She was scared.

She was scared or she was the biggest damn liar for she had been with him in that lovemaking…hadn't she? Could she have pretended something like that? Then where did the truth start? What was she? Who was she?

Was it lies from the first? Did she run it from the first? Run him?

What was he? Not genteel. Not educated. Not anything but biscuits and gravy. Grateful to have her and showing her right off he could be a beast alright. And maybe that's all she needed him for.

Had any of it been true?

Oh hell, he couldn't ask that, it didn't help him now.

Was she worth going for? She was. But what if she'd betrayed him from the first? Then he'd find her and…no. He couldn't say it. He couldn't think it. He had to find her. That's all. Then he'd see. But he had to know.

He made his way to the constable's and wrote her name and she was wife. Well he wrote her three names, Dubois, Swan, Cullen. They took him back to look in the holding cell and one like her was in there. Not man or woman. Not her.

They told him where sick were taken, to a convent on the river there and he made his way next and all along he watched for her, lost his breath if he saw man or woman looked her size, and only twice but the hope that tried to rise heavy as an elephant. Both times them not here, not nearly and him whispering "damn."

In that sick place he showed his paper that spoke his trouble, her name there and no, they had two puny from the fever yet, but no, not her. That sister wanted to pray with him, and he thought of letting her do so, but then he shook his head and went on out.

Then he went to the train station, and he bought a bun from a girl had a tray there, and he chewed it angry and it turned his stomach but he had not eaten and he'd need strength.

He walked some blocks, his boots still squishing, and the big arched station there, more trains at once than he'd ever seen, and he went to the window and wrote Richmond, and they showed the times there and two headed where you could get off and onto another, but it was hard to say. Most direct were just those two. He looked there, but he didn't feel it. He didn't know.

Back out on the street the tired set in, and the hopeless feel she wanted to go, and his body sore from all he'd expended. He dropped there, on the wharf, on the bricks and he looked out at that water and there was that family helped him before, that colored man, his wife and boy. He watched her take in wash off her line and that man sitting there working on a line. The river was too slow. If she was in it, God forbid, but if she was, she could of got out. That day she was in the Piney and he thought she'd die, she had kept afloat. If she went in water, she was gone now one way or another. One thing, she would not go home. Would she? Not back to Tennessee. There was nothing there for her but him. No, she was going someplace sure. Richmond was his guess and he felt it more now. Well it's there was her past. It's there she would be. He looked at the schedule renewed, for he'd have to follow.

His money purse had survived his dunking, thank God, but he was not a rich man. He would not go regular on that train, but he'd be on the one and make his way to Virginia, and he'd start by seeing her people there, by learning what this was…who she was, and he'd be patient, and if they took her and brought her harm he would have no more reason to live but retribution. Em had Rosalie. Jasper had the cove. He was free now to see this to an end.

A boy came up to him and wanted to shine his shoes and he shook his head. He knew those trains were leaving soon, but he'd see the barber first, and he went in there and had his head shaved clean. When he emerged he looked different. He ran his hand over his head then sat his hat upon it. He wanted his face out, right there now, scars and scowls, for his smiles and laughter were gone.


	32. Chapter 32

Bringing Bella Home 32

Far as weapons went, he had only his knife. Back home, well they had plenty, but this trip was in its intention, for love. And though a wise man kept a pistol, and just common sense to bring a knife, he was not properly armed…for war.

In the store they had new weapons to choose from but also many used and converted to one thing or another. Well he looked them over there and ended up being caught by a Smith and Wesson handgun. It was a damn shiny gun. Wide bore. It would do.

He bought it new, seven dollars, and the cartridges too and the merchant did go on how the west would be won with this gun, but he had no interest in winning the west just … her….

Well he'd make Edward a deal on another too, but Edward shook his head. That black powder was the most corrosive thing God ever made, bad as love almost, and he'd have no time to keep a weapon pristine like he'd normally do. Cartridges were welcomed so he told himself the great seven dollar lay down was money well spent, and really none of it mattered, but that one thing…that one….

The merchant lost a son at Gettysburg, his name, Dodge Redman. Did Edward know him? He did not. But he felt him, that Dodge Redman, in the ground, but he did not say such for this one still dreamed.

Then that fella brought out a long list, yellow and crinkled he kept it, those never came home and it was from a newspaper year after the war ended, and some names crossed out, but most not and he asked Edward to take a look, but there was none on there Edward knew.

So many thousands, favored sons of fathers who held paper with names inked there that proved they was. Still folks asked, folks hoped. They was just gone…like her…just….

So he moved off and held in a sigh and followed his nose to the leather. He bought a belt, his old and so worn and he'd made it himself after the war, him and Em. He was narrow at the waist and round the hips and he found one fit enough to hold that gun at his back beneath his coat.

And he bought some things to eat, crackers and apples and biscuits and cheese and dried meat. Not that he had appetite, not really, but he would need such.

So he finished there and went over to the station and found the train resting on the track 'fore it headed out and if you listened it made the sounds of a big animal some, snorting and such. And he filled his canteen at the pump, drank deep and topped it off again.

He used the look of himself to his advantage with the engineer or whoever stood in his path. And he did get some looks and folks thought veteran right away he knew, for the marks of suffering, well them not so unusual, but what came out of him, that other thing with no name, that was when they put their own hurts on him and got out of his way.

He signed for a ride and the man asked what outfit and Edward signed that too, and ended up the fella wouldn't take money just turned to show Edward he wouldn't stop him.

So on that train Edward welcomed the respite to think. She could be on this beast, all he knew. He wanted to look, to call out and search and rip it apart with his hands, with his teeth, but then, what would that solve long run.

For now, he hunkered in a corner, not easy to see him, for he had little interest in the country. He tipped his hat over his face, he folded his arms, and after a piece he whispered his words. "Love. Shit. Hellfire. Son of a bitch. Woman. Damn woman. Damn…my Bella. Bella. Bella."

Then he couldn't stop saying her name and it was a portent what it did to him to hear it. Like deep down in him, it moved his very guts, it did. And he couldn't stop, those wheels clacking underneath and her name pouring out of him loud and louder.

And a thousand images there in his mind and he had to hold himself, check himself, and he said it, "Bella," pretty near a hundred times, with some strangulation at the end there, and a raw throat, so he had to force himself to stop saying it altogether, but even still it was around him now, in the car, in the wheels, all over.

And he climbed up top and the night and the country…and the wind. His love was that big and that mad.

She had a grappling hook in him. He breathed hard from the agony the swell of outrage he felt.

It took him some time to calm and settle. The open sky helped. He thought of his words coming now, coming out of him. Folks had no right to hear his mind. Nothing good came of so much talk or talk at all. He'd stay quiet as he could until he found her. Speaking made it…hard to bear.

Hours after Edward climbed back into the car. He slept some and when he came to they weren't moving. He was stiff and sore. What woke him from his dreams was someone rolling the door open, looking to unload the freight that shielded him. They had the doors open both sides. Edward stayed patient until he had a chance to get off nice and slow jumping out and walking right past them as they called to each other and put a ramp in place on one side there.

He looked at those getting off the passenger cars. Then he walked the length of that train, both sides, knapsack on him, weapon tucked in back, knife at his side, hat on his bald head. If Bella was on here and she was looking out the window she could spot him now. Would she hide? Call out?

A woman he passed looked at him then away. It happened twice more.

He wondered how Em was…Jacob and Esme. Jasper. He was not used to being gone from them so long…. Well he searched through the crowd but he stayed patient. He went to the front of the first passenger car. There were two. He got on there and started to walk through not knowing if she was girl or boy, but he'd see her either way. There was no one like her. Maybe she got off and he missed her, or maybe she'd get on here. He exited at the end of the second car and walked some more, this way and that. Before that train took off he was back on, new freight where the old was, but him in the same car, same corner.

He was near crushed he had not found her, but he knew that…crushed…and he held it off. There were miles to go and still he may be doing nothing more than putting more and more miles between them.

He pulled that gun from behind him and held it so his hand would learn it. He hunkered back. He was dry now, except for his boots that would take a couple days. So he laid down that handsome weapon and he pulled his boots off, his feet smelling like old leather, and he peeled off the socks Esme taught his brother to make, and hung them on a crate. His feet were long and white and pruny, and he thought of Marie, that one and that Alice and wondered if she'd got Jasper to admit it yet…admit he was besotted and if he laid with her, if he had the guts and the will and his pecker stayed true. He had thought they were on a path, a path of happiness, them all married perhaps….

Well…he'd see.

If she went willing…he'd follow.

If she got took…he'd take her back.


	33. Chapter 33

Bringing Bella Home 33

Richmond filled Edward's head with sights and smells he'd not known in such profusion. 'Fore the war, Richmond was the slave trade and tobacco and it was tobacco still from the looks and freedmen were everywhere. It had been the capitol of the Confederacy. When the Yanks came in '65 there weren't but seven weeks left of the war. Richmond was left for them burning and that reached Douglas and they paid for it some, but they were sad and cheering same time.

Those in Richmond weren't going to turn over their city to the Yanks undamaged.

Well, what he knew, this weren't no soft country. They fought hellish, just hellish what they did to each other, 700,000 dead from it by war's end. No it weren't soft that kind of pluck and gumption turned on each other. Americans all.

He'd gone across Illinois and Kentucky to get here, seen such beauty…mountain passes and rivers. If his heart weren't so broke…well he'd thought of going home and gathering an army, but he had nothing to bring them on but a goose chase. Hell, he hoped it was more.

He walked that station there and looked around, imposing buildings in the distance. He headed off there, in no hurry. "You ever hear of Renee Dubois the Rose of Richmond? or some such he remembered Bella saying.

He bought a meal, biscuits and meat at a saloon and had a beer. He did not speak when spoken to, well he never did, but kept to himself.

He felt better after he'd eaten and took off again, looking at everyone he passed, white or Negro. It was a sign to him when he ended up at The Silver Swan. He entered there and it was more high falutin', but still a saloon, a stage too, smack there in the middle, and he couldn't believe he'd fixed his eyes on that place she stood with those faces upturned. He saw it now, felt it, how it was. A calm pretty much settled on him. He was led here by an Almighty hand is what he figured cause Richmond had some size. He hoped this put him in her path. But he didn't know…shit.

The place was empty and he sat at a table and a woman made her way over to him. She was dressed that way he'd seen before, skin on display. Old as him maybe, just as much story in her. He had whiskers and he did not pull his hat off for her. It was nothing against, but he was not bound by polite.

She wanted to know his business, and though he ignored her she pulled out a chair and sat.

He looked at her and she liked his eyes, she said, snapping green like the beans her ma grew. Was he in the war? Well, she knew he was, she said. She said she was good at guessing. He was a foot soldier she bet, for even now she did not smell horse on him.

Not a talker, huh? she said. But that's alright. She liked a man who was quiet. Days end her ears hurt from all the talk she had to endure.

"You got some hard livin' on you soldier," she said, her arms folded on the table there and her chest squeezed and spilling. "But I like a man looks worth the ride…and you sure do."

What can she get him then, beer? Whiskey? A trip up the stairs?

Did he want a job? They had fired one of the bullies night before and he looked strong for sure.

He was interested in everything she said. She'd told him how to get upstairs and she told him about a job. Her tongue was loose as her drawers he reckoned, not that he felt blame. But it had to take something to let stinking man and after into yourself that way.

After what Bella went through…he was of a different mind. He pushed her some money and when she brought him whiskey, he let her keep what was left

As evening fell the place started to fill. He was looking for everything and besides his wife…nothing in particular. He saw some dressed dandy, and by age picked up on possibles. Then he heard that one called Charles. And any who came after on the stage to sing or dance and lift their skirts, they were not her, not nearly.

And he studied that one and much as he hated to think it, hated him on sight, that Charles Swan…Bella favored him, and it came on Edward, such a strong, angry hankering to take this man out and beat the very life from him, and he wouldn't need his gun, just his hands and his hate for a sick son of bitch like him.

It was well into the melee when trouble came. He had pushed the chair from his table long time ago lest someone feel an invite to sit, and more than one of the women tried, a couple of men looking for him to buy them a drink or worse hear their sad stories. He had no inclination for any of it. But this one brought a chair and turned it there and straddled it. "What's an ugly son of a bitch like you doin' nursin' that whiskey and starin' at Mr. Swan?"

He was surprised this fool took notice. He nearly respected such. At present his hatred was all tied up on Charles Swan. But he was not above beating this one in his stead…for now….

He took another drink. The fruit of the still in his neck of the woods did not go down as smoothly as this Virginia whiskey and he was not suffering to drink such.

"What's your name?" this big nervous one asked him.

He breathed in before he kicked that one's chair. He used his good leg and was able to move that chair some but this Virginian was big as a buffalo, more like Felix, and it only jarred him and caught him not ready.

Well he was used to being the big man, Edward could tell, so it made him mad, what Edward done, so he stood over six feet, well over, and the chair clattered back and 'fore he moved Edward rammed the table hard and it hit him against the legs right near that pecker and he fell forward some and got those hands big as puppies on that circle of wood and shoved it aside snorting now, fixing to lunge straight on for him.

But Edward scooted his chair back and got on his feet, gun out. Boy charged, Edward kneed him in the gut and side-stepped and brought the gun butt down back of that barrel-shaped head. That one crashed to the floor like a felled beast.

Edward was looking down at him, then he knew it got so quiet and he looked up and all eyes were on him and Charles Swan was there, cigar in his fingers, and he said, "No one's ever brought Zeke down before. You wouldn't be lookin' for a job, now would you?"

And he got froze there some looking in Swan's face, and those were Bella's eyes but dead and gone to stink and how did folks not know they were kin, how had Bella not realized? So he had to catch himself after Swan said, "You hearing me?"

He nodded, and Swan stuck out his hand and Edward looked at it and it meant so much, that hand, and he did not want to grasp it but he did and Swan's grip was strong, but nothin' like his. And that's how he came to work for Charles Swan.

Zeke came at Edward several more times over the next week. Well Edward had shamed him so after a few whiskeys he'd brood, then he'd charge. Edward would watch the whole thing, be ready as if the oaf had gotten on that stage and said, "Here I come," but Zeke thought Edward was some kind of demon or such to always be ready like he was.

Well he had to give Edward notoriety somehow to accept the fact he was whooped. He couldn't believe a normal human had done it. That was just too mortifying, so he made Edward into some kind of deity almost, and took to following him around like an elephant lumbering there, and Edward didn't want that, so every now and then he'd turn around and punch Zeke in the nose and like a lot of men big-sized like that, Zeke just fell to his ass, leg bent wrong beneath him and he barely shook it off, well once he didn't. He'd passed out until they brought him round with a bucket from the trough outside. But fighting went on every night here after the singing and dancing, the matches started and they fought until they fell off that stage sometimes but they kept fighting still.

So they called Edward, Striker, for he would not write his name on a paper like Charles asked nor would he take the stage, but he had that punch and some terribly violent moves. And that name spread like blood.

End of that second week Edward had fought most of the men with a bent toward such just on the floor there cause they wouldn't listen, and been fought over by most of the women cause they didn't listen either. He didn't want a thing to do with any of them but it was little Hades, and he knew worse by far so it didn't shake him much. He guessed that was the best thing about surviving something like Douglas, you knew such dark, most things were still gray by compare.

Charles wanted Striker to take to the stage and fight those willing, those big boys come off the James River and those coming out of the blue mountains, and Negroes looking to box for money and anyone dumb or desperate enough to try and make it with fists.

Edward refused, ignored the whole notion. One night he was making rounds by the bar, dragging out those had too much, or those making trouble. There was a stir there, something, and he went in back where they stored the liquor, and there was talk there, Charles, and another…. He called him James, but Edward already knew. This one favored that one he killed back home in looks…that Victor.

Well James had his name on one of the doors in the private section off the main room, but he hadn't been around and Edward had been waiting for the homecoming. Oh Lord, his heart picked up and he had to steady himself.

But he was here tonight and him and Charles were together and Edward went back in the saloon before he was spotted. And he did his job, and he watched that door and he did that belly breathing the way she taught him and he fixed that collar with them flowers she sewed there. And anyone got in his way or misbehaved, well he was brutal cause he felt het-up.

Come time for the show, they went through it like always, the song and the white flashing skin and the cheers and the pawing at those on stage and the fighting that brought. Then Charles up there, and waiting until the crowd settled some, and it did and he made his speech, cigar smoking in his hand, and you could hear a pin drop to the floor for quiet, and he did speak of Renee, and they gave a cheer for they remembered. And he said he just got word that she died…Renee Dubois was dead.

They drank to her then, they did, and Edward stood there his mind reeling, wondering what it meant. Had Bella gone there? Had she been with her mother? Well he thought of that a hundred times, but now she was dead. Had James gone there? Did he have Bella?

Edward put his hands on the stage and he felt his breath shaky, and his mouth open, and he waited and they cheered around, and he turned just in time to see Zeke creeping like always, and he felt that blow to the side of his head and he went down.

Turns out, they spoke in front of him like he was already dead and he reckoned his head weren't so hard…he would be.

He was in a room there, back with the offices, on a cot they kept, Charlie did, for he laid there sometimes.

Edward tried to move. He heard the talking. It was Charlie and the other. They argued there. "It don't matter. None of it makes a difference," Charles yelled.

Edward struggled to sit up and side of his head was so sore. He probed that swelling with his fingers then looked at his hand, but the blood had dried mostly. That damn Zeke.

What was he going to do, kill them all? Need be he could. He didn't know if he'd have a life with Bella now, but if he found her, he wouldn't care for himself if she was hurt. He'd kill these here for sure.

He wondered again what went on with the mother in Ashville. Had Bella gone there? She had. He knew it in himself. She'd gone to her mother.

He got on his feet but he was dizzy. He heard someone coming, and he braced himself for he was in piss poor shape if he had to fight. It was Charles.

"He get you good?" Charles said, and he didn't seem tore up at all with Renee's passing.

Edward looked away and hand on the back of his neck pulled his shoulders back some. It was all he could do not to lunge forward. He looked for his gun. His personals were on a table there.

"Why don't you and him settle it on the stage. It could bring some sweet money. How does one hundred dollars sound? One hundred dollars for long as it takes you to lay him out. He's favored round here, you're the dark horse. Folks will come from all around to see it and lay money down to own it. This is just going to keep on for free. What's the use? You can't turn your back on him as it stands. Do something about it."

Edward spat there on the floor.

"Hey, this is my room," Charles said ready to bust a vessel, but that's why Edward had done it.

Edward gathered his effects, stuck his gun in back there. Eased his hat on, but avoided the lump on the side of his head much as possible.

He moved to go out and Charles put his hand on Edward's arm to stop him. Edward looked at Charles' hand and that one pulled it off. "Think about what I said. You got an arm like a hammer. Let's not let it go to waste."

Well…Edward never had…never would. He walked away from Charles and turned to lock eyes with the other as he passed his office there. "You can't do better than that don't come back to work tomorrow," James said.

Edward stopped and stared at that one. Now this one's eyes…this one was cruel. He reckoned Charles did what he did to get…but this one just liked it…cruelty.

"What are you looking at?" James asked.

Edward thought he knew. That's why he was looking. He felt his jaw some, the new shave he got this morning already rough as scrub. He turned slow and headed out.

James said to Charles, "Fire him. He's trouble."

And Charles came right back about what a fight they would have if he'd just go along. "Best bully I've had," he said to James. And Edward blew out a laugh.

They wanted a fight, a big fight, one would let her see he was there…if she was close. He'd give them their fight. He went back to where James sat behind his papers. Charles was in there. They looked surprised and James' hand was no doubt reaching for a gun where Edward couldn't see beneath that desk.

Charles pulled that cigar from his mouth. "You gonna do it?"

Edward looked at James. He let him see now…his face…and all that was there. He nodded.

Charles stuck that stogie in his mouth and clapped his hands and carried on, but James and Edward kept staring.

"You lose you're out of here. You win, you'll defend your title as part of your job. For every sod buster you pound to win you'll get a bonus, and we'll say what. But you lose…you're out." James said that.

Edward nodded. He'd be famous now.

"Striker," Charles said, waving that cigar like he was reading a banner, "…the mute from…where you from son?"

Edward took his knife from the scabbard at his side and on that smooth red wood of that massive desk James sat behind he carved one word. "Tennessee."

James yelled and cussed and told Charles to stop him the whole time he carved there. In no time Edward was moving the shavings off with his hand. He pointed to what he wrote and Charles was laughing so hard he could barely stand.

"The mute from Tennessee," Charles guffawed.

"Get the hell out of here," James yelled.

That's okay. Edward was leaving anyway.

He'd be famous now, for he would not lose. And she would hear. And she would come.


	34. Chapter 34

Bringing Bella Home 34

Bella had never known such happiness as she felt with Edward Cullen. On the riverboat time…stopped. Her wounds said not to trust…that in the end you lost…you hurt.

But Edward taught her differently. He had changed her understanding of life and love. They'd floated on the glassy sensual river of surrender. And she had surrendered. Edward held her heart. He was the first she'd given her trust. His love made her whole.

She saw herself like he did and she…was…new.

When she thought of him, his level study of her slightest move, his rough fingers light on her cheek, the soft spill of, "love," from his lips, the certainty when he kissed her and bowed her will and her pride and won her…his hands locked on her arms, his arms strong around her back, his calloused palms on her flesh, his warm mouth breathing into her and for her…even his anger…love in it…hope they could do better. Determination she'd look at him, at them and give them a chance.

He made it clear, she was his only, no other woman even close. That burning green depth he turned on her always for her, just her. The way he carried himself, the way he moved his hands, well all of him, the shape of him coming toward her, there in the cove and even before, from the first, that broadness across his shoulders and the narrowing down to his hips and his long strong legs, even his feet, and the muscle, the skin, the bones beneath the pumping blood such a solid drum, such a war cry…he was hers.

And the marks and ridges and healed over rips and cuts the bruises so deep they didn't show and the surrender under her fingers, the rough of him, the smooth and soft, the savage protection, the sheer might of him…to have left it…felt like having left the very presence of God…and she hoped…she prayed he could forgive her.

Edward Cullen, he had called her out and the grave clothes did fall away and he hauled her half dead crazed self up that cove, and killed those two and at one point she got ripped away from him and went into that Piney river and got baptized into a whole new life.

He taught her to smile and work hard and feel and be useful. And when she flew out the haymow, he flew right after, and landed by her side.

There was nothing she wouldn't do for him. This here now…he would take it wrongfully, the leaving of him to finish what was already started before she was born…and what she knew now, what she came from.

She toed the soil around her mother's grave. There was no comfort here, just the sad truth. Renee Dubois was never a mother to her. And now she never would be. But the kind of woman she'd been….

They had money out for her discovery and that woman on the boat…that woman was a whore used to work for Charles and James. She was on the boat with her fancy man. But she'd worked with Renee for several years and told Bella that one was close to death. As for Bella, Charles and James looked all over the south for her. It scared her. Being recognized scared her. Being tied to money scared her. She knew if they were found Charles and James would try to kill Edward. She knew this. It was more serious, more drastic than she'd allowed herself to believe. She'd been lying to herself and putting Edward in the line of fire.

On the boat, it had made her sick, physically sick to be discovered. She'd pulled away from Edward and fought in her mind to step up to what she had to do. Whatever it took to get free, it would not start with James and Charles. They would be ruthless to Edward. She knew she had to get to her dying mother and she'd been correct in that assumption.

She was no longer ignorant. There was so much she hadn't understood. It was her mother and Phil Dwyer who Victor and Laurent had worked for. Victor had a loyalty to Renee Bella hadn't realized. It was her own mother who'd had her hidden away in Tennessee. If she hadn't met Edward, she could hate her mother for that, too. But she didn't hate her…now that she had the facts, pity had moved in. But also the satisfaction of striking a blow for good. She could use the fruit of their subterfuge for good.

They'd lived wildly and dangerously, those three, her mother, Charles and James. And out of that, she, Bella, had been born. And she wouldn't spend her life looking over her shoulder worried she'd brought peril to Edward or his family. Their family. It was hers now, too, his life, his people, his land. She would fight for him…for them…with the dedication and singular purpose he had taught her. Edward Cullen had taught her the meaning of love.

Edward, or Striker as they called him now, had some rules came to fighting…nothing complicated. It was best to stay the hell away from the end of someone's arm. That's where the fist was.

Or, mood hit him, he stayed in close and that was hard to put up with if you were the one he leaned on. So he did that, not letting the other get in a good swing. He'd just stay in there like moss on a tree, and then he'd lead that other off the stage, make him fall there, then be sure to do a flying leap onto his stomach.

Or, he'd go for the eyes, ears, hair, face, temple, throat, kidneys.

A good punch to the nose was sure to blur the vision and that was always helpful. It could daze and it hurt like a son of a bitch to have your face explode. Little lower you could knock a man out…or kill him.

Quick, hard low kicks were handy. He watched for the straight knee cause that meant he could bow that knee back if he struck quick from the side…but with his leg, he had to favor it.

This rule now…get a man down…he don't get back up. Use a chair, use a table, but on the floor he stays.

This rule…stay off the ground yourself. All the time.

But the real secret, he told himself at the start of each fight…beat the livin' shit from his body…for Bella.

There were holes in that thinking, but it stirred fire in him every time, and it brought out a goodly amount of pluck and piss cause these boys only thought they'd had it hard…came to it he had looked the devil in the eye. And lived.

So he kept his head bald as that razor could make it. He would not grow hair until he had her in his arms again. And he wanted them to see his face…raw.

He liked to strip down when he fought. He wore britches tucked in his boots. The boots were so he could kick the liver out of the other need be. Then just the scars and marks and stories on him, just those were enough to bring them down to silence. Now he'd guarded that since Douglas. But not in these events. Now…look and go to hell.

Scars, muscles, bones and wits…and anything near, table, chair, boot, bottle. He used it.

He was out for one thing. To win. Well…he'd lost. And he wanted her back. It fouled his mood. Took his patience. He wanted her back. And women seemed to know…he fought for love. And they cheered him and he gave them nothing, not even a smile, he cared not for their looks or the lewd things they said or the flowers they threw. They wanted a row and he gave it. For Bella.

He fought the last man standing from all the fights gone on during the week. Friday night was his. That one would come in there and he'd be waiting. Striker.

Tonight was a big one. Swede they called him, came off a barge, stopped for drink, got his name in to fight and that was Monday and this here was Friday and the men were rowdy and drunk and looking for a reason.

Edward felt nothing but that crazy slow down that came on him when it was war. Inside his head it was quiet. No talking going on in there.

His thumbs, that leg…none of it mattered. Ever since that first fight when he took out Zeke, before the call to fight done more than poke its head from the referee's mouth Striker head butted him in the face and that one fell…like always.

Both sides went wild and they argued it hotly, ended up Striker's arm raised and that move became famous, known as Striker's kiss.

Now he waited patient for that Swede, they toed the line, and he stared there ruthless at that one, and like his name he did strike at the first sound, and he hit that Swede solid in his belly and that big boy fell forward hoping to rest on Striker, but Striker shoved him off before he got his wind and that one fell and Striker kicked the living shit out of him, kicked then fell on his belly on his knees and beat his face until his nose and lips were blooming like some weird roses, and blood and red, and that Swede's big arms splayed out and they grabbed Striker's arm and pulled him onto his feet and it was wild and loud and he had won.

Edward's head was just barely healed from Zeke's attack some weeks before but the slight pain he felt was so worth it he could have howled like a coyote. But he did not. He pushed through there and gathered his clothes and went back to the place he roomed out back and his cot.

So he went to his room and poured water in his basin and held the cool water over his face, then he heard something, and he raised quick and turned, first thought one of those whores and he grabbed someone standing right there and took them to the wall, man, stranger, around Em's age but sized like Jasper.

"Wait," this one choked out. "Please."

Edward eased off some. He stood there, still half naked from the fight. Then he took his hands off this one and waited.

"I'm a friend. I have information you need."

He grabbed this one again, took him back to the wall. What was this?

"Please," the fellow struggled and pushed against Edward.

Edward caught himself and left off again. He panted hard and looked at the fella. He was well dressed and bookish like, with spectacles and all that caught the moon's light coming in from the window behind.

"I implore you to accompany me several blocks over to a private chamber there. You won't regret it."

"Why?" Edward asked, and it his first vocal exchange with someone who wasn't Bella.

"Oh. You can speak. You are Edward Cullen?"

Edward put his hand over that one's mouth. It was too early for the others to be in here, but he did not say his name around here.

Edward put his finger to his lips, letting this one know to shut his yapper. Than he put his clothes on, and motioned that one, who pulled on his collar and cravat and set himself to rights, his spectacles and his fancy hat. Fancy led the way out, stopping at the door to make sure he wasn't seen. They walked quickly across the yard there in back, to the alley where the wagons pulled up to load in the liquor, and down it then, to the street beyond. A carriage waited there in the street. He followed this one to that rig and climbed in behind. They had to sit too close for Edward's liking, but his heart hammered in his chest.

"Who?" Edward asked him again.

"I'm Bella's half brother Charles," that one answered extending his long, thin hand.

Edward stared at it, but he had no inclination to touch it.

"Where is she?" Edward said.

"I can't talk here." He knocked on the front of the carriage and the horses took off.

"Where's Bella?" Edward repeated more forcefully.

"She's safe," he replied. "It's only a matter of minutes and you'll get some of your questions answered.

"Is Bella here?"

"No. I'm sorry. No."

Edward sat back then and the carriage lurched with the force of it. He lifted his hat and ran his hand over his scalp. He felt like busting this carriage to splinters. He breathed like she taught him. Good thing. He'd no idea how much he would need it…married to the likes of her. Lord.


	35. Chapter 35

Bringing Bella Home 35

Young Charles took Edward to a building several streets over from the Silver Swan, to a better part of town where office fronts lined the street, some still for rent, all of them dark and silent at this late hour.

Edward was in no good frame, and the hurting from the fight was setting in, but his heart was hammering to have his first real connection to Bella, if this was real.

He followed Charles in to this building, and inside was a tall desk with a rolled top, and a chair for that, then another chair where that pale hand gestured Edward should sit.

He wanted this dandy to get to it, but it wasn't likely it seemed as he took to removing his gloves, his tall hat, and lighting the lamp. When he opened a drawer there, Edward leaned on that desk beside him and tried to say the words, "Get to it," but his throat closed right up he was so mad so he slapped his hand flat on the desk there and he heard that one gulp.

But he got the message, and he gestured to the chair again and Edward went there slow and sat.

"Charles Swan is my father. I'm older than Bella by seven years. My…mother raised her…when she wasn't away at school. My mother…was Renee Dubois' sister. She was his first wife. His only wife according to the law. Bella…she knew none of this…until recently.

"I know…I don't look it…older than Bella. For that I blame my mother." But his hand went through his thick brown hair there, and sure it could be like Bella's, but that proved nothing.

"My father was…is a scoundrel. Let's just say I am not above thwarting him for all he put my mother through. She was from a wealthy family, and when she married him…yes, married him, witnesses and all, she was disowned. Well, he hadn't planned on it sticking, but when he saw it would he took off with her sister, Renee, leaving me in her belly…and her penniless.

"My grandfather took me in and Mother continued to struggle for years. Until Renee had Bella. Mother didn't want to help Renee out, understandably. But need prevailed and guilt is an able taskmaster so Renee paid Mother handsomely to raise Bella. Then as soon as she was old enough…boarding school.

"I was able to have a good education, thanks to Grandfather's money, and I studied law. It was in my apprenticeship I met Phillip Dwyer and realized his alliance with Renee Dubois, my aunt. As his assistant I learned she was dying. Of course I'd known she was ill through Mother, but for a while it seemed she was better. But consumption…tricky business.

"Anyway, Renee had amassed a fortune. Well…they had amassed such. There wasn't much they hadn't dabbled in, those three-Charles, Renee and James."

"Where's…Bella?" Edward asked strained.

"Bella and Phillip Dwyer have journeyed to Washington to prevail on my mother to accompany them back here. Without Bella she would never come…but she's guilty about Bella. She was cold to her. She took out much of her hatred of Renee on that girl."

Realizing Bella was coming here…Edward was on his feet. "When?"

"When? No, please sit. Please let me finish."

Slowly Edward lowered to the chair. But he did not ease.

"When?" Louder, more forcefully.

"End of next week," Charles said. "Please…" he held his hands out, like you would to a dog fixing to bite.

Edward waited, his patience used up.

"My mother's and my testimony will dissolve Bella's marriage to Charles Swan and his subsequent claim on what is now and has always been Bella's money. You must understand…Bella is very…protective of you. Desperately so. When I discovered you at the Silver Swan I wired her immediately with my suspicions. She had described you to us…well to Renee…in conversation, and I have a very good eye for people. The timing and your obvious skills…it was the flyer more than anything, The Mute from Tennessee?" he smiled here, shook his head. "I wired her and she confirmed…knew it was you…was exactly something you might do, she said. But why, Mister Cullen?"

Edward just stared. He didn't owe this man his story.

"Well, she implores you to go home to Tennessee and wait for her return. She begs you."

Edward felt no push to commit himself. He would only do what was right for her, and running wouldn't serve that.

"She is coming here, but she'll stay in hiding with Mother. Neither of you needs to be here. Charles' attempt to legitimize a marriage to his own daughter is illegal, immoral and exploitative. He knows Bella has inherited hundreds of thousands of dollars from Renee. He will try to buy his way out of it once again but this time he won't succeed. Our judge is well aware of the facts of this case and eager to show Charles Swan and his ilk the legal system of the new south is not for hire."

He reached in his vest and brought out a flask, pulled the lid and took a drink then held it toward Edward. Edward declined.

Charles took another drink and capped the slim container. "Charles Swan fully intends to inherit anything Bella possessed. Now that he thinks Renee is out of the way he has already staked his right to Bella's funds, and that will include Renee's estate. He's pushing that Bella is dead, that she ran off due to the stress of the trial and was killed."

Then let him. Edward didn't care about any of it. They discounted the marriage from the first. They married knowing theirs was the only one that mattered.

"It's not the money that has kept Bella involved. But that has become important. She wants her share divided between the freedman's school here in Richmond and the graveyard for the dead soldiers. But for Bella the injustice is the marriage, the claim Charles Swan has made on her life. That claim is her death warrant. If Charles says she's dead, she has to be dead. That includes you. In her own words, she's tired of Charles Swan thinking he's her god. For her it's emancipation. Just like the slaves. Those are…her words. She is fighting for the right to live free. Her words again. That's how she feels and that's why she left you like she did."

Edward didn't want him to say this. He did want to hear it, was ripped to his heart and wanted answers, but he didn't want them from this…Charles. No hired man to speak of matters that were theirs. She would have to tell him herself. She would have to convince him if that were possible.

"For years those three held all the money they wanted to hide in Renee or Bella's names. They layered it that way, the biggest part in Bella's name and she had no idea.

"When Renee got sick they sent her off and suspicion set in. They started to fall apart. Renee was a cooling influence on Charles. Without her input Charles got reckless. He ran through a fortune on opportunities reconstruction brought, land speculation over the railroad, a gold mine out west…general poor management…not to mention being a drunkard and…opium. They've lived like a run-away train, these three. They made most of their money selling secrets and guns during the war. They played both sides. James in particular made thousands in the slave trade, but Charles and Renee were in it, too. There was pretty much nothing they hadn't tried to build their fortunes.

"The big break amongst them came when Charles brought Bella into the saloon to take Renee's place. Between himself and Renee, he was holding Bella hostage until Renee gave in with the money. Renee hadn't wanted Bella in their affairs. But Renee was powerless to stop him. The only ace she had was Bella's money and now Charles married the girl and Renee was livid and moved to stop it, and she made sure Bella stayed hidden while she fought him. She knew what he would do to Bella. He'd use her to make money and he married her so that when Renee died he would get everything."

Edward didn't want to hear anymore. He wanted his wife. That's all he cared about.

He would not go running home to the cove like a good little bunny. She couldn't tell him what to do. She'd made enough decisions he had no say about. No, he'd be waiting when she showed.

There was one big part of the story this dandy had not spoken about…didn't seem that concerned about, and ask him, ask Edward, this was the most important one in this fight. James.

It would be very wrong to think he stood somewhere in the shadows. It would be a great big mountain of oversight.

He stood on the bank of the river and smoked for a long while after he left young Charles. Then he walked back to the Silver Swan with his mind settled. End of the week was all he cared about now. End of the week, he would see his wife. That's all.

The saloon was still humming and cranking when he got back. Well he walked right in the front door there and some made over him but he ignored them and kept on going. He was looking around.

"Always looking," James said from behind him.

He did not turn. He knew who it was. No one had followed him, he was sure. This was just James, a nose for trouble and Edward would be trouble. He knew what would fix this. Put James and Charles in the ground. That would do it.

So he did not answer but moved off there.

"Hey," James said, "I'm talking to you."

So he turned to listen, and that one was more in the drink than usual. "Where'd you learn to fight like that? What you do in the war? Hell…who are you?" James said.

Edward pointed to a sign up there over the bar, hung right over the naked lady painted there. He was Striker, the mute from Tennessee. As for the rest, didn't matter. Fact was, he could kill a man. And his brothers. King David done it, brought down Goliath, and took those extra stones from the river, ready to kill the rest of the boys if he had to. It had always inspired him to hear such.

So he walked on and James grabbed his arm this time and he stopped and Edward didn't like that…being touched by this one. "Striker," James said stern.

Edward shrugged his arm from James' grasp.

"I don't like you," James said.

Edward thought of his knife and his gun. He had both.

"You're up to something and I'm never wrong." He looked at Edward, his eyes that cruel light.

"Charles wants to see you in back," he said, and Edward waited for James to go first. He didn't like him walking behind.

Charles sat in James' office, his feet on that big desk Edward had carved upon. He nearly smiled thinking of it, and there it was, deep in the wood for that jack ass to look at every day of his life. He wanted to kill these for what they'd done to Bella, thinking she was something to use. James knocked Charles' feet to the floor and Charles yelled at him. They went back and forth.

Edward stood, arms folded across his chest, glaring at them.

Charles got out of the chair then, staggering drunk, but used to righting himself. "Well there Striker, hell of a fight. Let me close the door there," he said.

Edward didn't like it, the door getting closed.

James sat in the chair Charles vacated, and Charles sat on the corner of the desk, fancy glass in his hand filled with the good stuff they didn't sell out front.

Edward stood there…waiting.

"Wondering if you want to move up in this world, Striker. You're too good a man to waste yourself fighting corn-cobbers and river rats," Charles laughed all jovial.

Then the door burst open and Edward moved deeper in to the corner as someone was dragged in there by Zeke and one of the other bullies. Their captive's head hung low and his thick brown hair bloodied.

"Lookie here what we got," Charles said, excited by the blood, and giddy like a man what caught a bear in his trap.

Charles stood and grabbed a handful of that thick hair and lifted that one's head and Edward already knew it was the young one. Charles' own son. He knew not to show his surprise. He would shoot James first cause that one already had his hand on that gun beneath the desk, then Zeke, Charles Sr., then the other bully. It would be like that he already knew. Then he'd fire into them again and he'd leave with this young one quick, or not. Didn't look like he could travel, this young man.

James looked at Edward as if to see the effect this might have.

"You come in my town," Charles yelled in his son's face, "you think you can and me not know? You think you can come for me? Avenge the past? All educated now on that son of a bitch's money so you come to take me down?" He slapped his son's face, and that one groaned. He'd barely been able to open his eyes to look at his father. Edward kept himself still.

Charles grabbed that one's hair again and spit in his face this time. "You little pissant. You think you belong to me? Your mother was a whore, nothing but a cheap, frigid bitch I wouldn't dip my wick inside of if she was the only animal left on this earth. Why I'd take a diseased whore…."

"Charles," James yelled, "get out of my way and shut up…." The repercussion in the room was deafening as Charles stepped aside and James shot young Charles in the chest at this close range.

On instinct Edward pulled his gun. He shot Charles Sr. to get him out of the way. But James had already dropped to the floor. The bullies had dropped young Charles there before the desk in a pool of blood and fled. James shot at Edward from the side of his desk and the wall next to Edward splintered. Edward ducked and returned fire and it was so close and loud, and James climbed frantically over those bodies emptying his gun while he did and Edward crouched other side of the desk and soon as James was out the door Edward pushed Charles Sr. aside and felt through the blood on young Charles' neck but in his haste he felt no pulse.

He did not look shyly from the door but jumped into the hall, his back against the far wall as he looked quickly for a sign of James, but that one had vanished. Edward reckoned he went out through the back, but blood was trailed in both directions. He headed out the back and the door stood wide, but that could be the bullies and he was probably fixing to walk straight in to an ambush.

A thousand questions flew through his mind, but he pushed them aside as he searched the grounds for James. When he couldn't find him out back he went inside. The bodies were left in the same attitude as when he ran out. The two Charles were dead.

He went out front, and the crowd had thinned from the gunshots. The bartender had already seen the bodies and held a shotgun. One of the bullies stood at the door. No one knew what had happened. James had run through and said to guard the door.

Edward knew if he fled they could try and pin this on him. But to stay…that would mean trying to crawl through a trial. Charles was dead. But young Charles was innocent and they'd killed him. He'd been beaten, probably tortured. Had he told them everything? Did they know about Bella? Is that where James had gone now, to find and overtake Bella? To kill her or kidnap her? Either way, he couldn't reach her before Edward did.

James was the one searched the countryside for her. He was the dark horse playing Renee and Charles. It was money…but maybe more. Edward felt it…the middling. For James it was more. He wanted Bella.

The first thing Edward did after packing his gear and high-tailing it out of there was go to young Charles' office. There was nothing there other than his few personal effects. He'd guessed any papers were already stolen. He was looking through the desk drawers in the dark when he heard the floorboard and turned and lunged with his knife. It was Zeke left to guard this place no doubt. He stabbed him deep in the neck and held on until this one wouldn't be sneaking on him again.

Then he wiped his knife quick and took that one's money and he lit out, caution, looking, heart hammering, blood on his hands. He kept to the dark and he kept moving. He wanted the railroad and that's where he went. What he'd do, he'd jump the first one north and next town he'd correct and head straight to the station he needed to be at when Bella came through. End of the week they said. He had all that time to try and find James, to kill him. But he had no time at all, no time for his money was on James making a path to her. She was the key to everything.

Edward prayed…he just prayed. Man of action, Jasper said, all the time he said it.

Man of action…who prayed.


	36. Chapter 36

For Shehazi

Bringing Bella Home 36

There was no need for a trial now, there was no Charles Swan, no heinous marriage, no attempt to swindle Bella of her mother's ill-got fortune. No mother to care for. But there was James. And he wasn't going to just walk away from any of it. Especially Bella.

And there was another worry in the back of Edward's mind, another shadow, but he pushed it away, he couldn't afford to ponder more right now or he would splinter and chase his own tail.

So he kept one eye on anyone milling at the Richmond station and one on the schedule under the station master's hand. He was explaining when the trains came through and that droning was the perfect backdrop to Edward's one hundred and seventy-two random thoughts.

Bella had seven days to come to Richmond, but the plan had collapsed. Edward wished he could send a wire, but he had no knowledge of what Asheville sanitorium Renee had died in, or was it a private home? He had no idea.

He didn't know what to do. The middling was on him so strong. James would know exactly what to do, where to go. He would know all the history, all the places, where Renee died, where Bella grew up.

James had brought Charles the news of Renee's passing. He'd been traveling, that James. Where had he come from that first night Edward had seen him? This was his country…for years…secrets back and forth in the war, he'd know every dip and holler. Lord.

It was a fortune, Charles Junior had said. Hundreds of thousands. His darling was a dead woman. His darling would die, for that much money was hard to imagine. But those that could, that saw their hand in such…they would go for the flag now. His wife.

The station master was rambling, patient, explaining the routes to Edward. There was an easy and well used route to Washington, that much was true. But Edward had a middling.

When he thought about it he figured it must have been like this—they had all been in Asheville around Renee's death. Junior came to Richmond from there, and Bella was leaving from there with Dwyer for Washington.

But how long ago, or if she'd even left yet he didn't know. He figured that journey was at least four hundred miles as the crow flies and the railroad wasn't like the crow, not nearly.

He hoped to catch James at the station in Richmond. He watched for that one to come through, but he'd be quick and low. He had to figure his own path. If Junior spoke precise she still had seven days. She would need two for travel to Washington, perhaps three depending on connections. Good days and baring prolonged stops she could make as much as twenty miles an hour, and that was generous for he had no idea the delays she'd encounter. Then from Washington to Richmond, that could be done in a day easy, as it was a quarter of the distance.

He should be well out in front of her, unless she was already in Washington for reasons he did not know. Perhaps it would take a week to convince the old lady to come to Richmond. Or perhaps they would receive word of Junior's death and change their plans. But Bella knew he was in Richmond. She knew.

He was mad at her. Furious. And if she got killed he'd never forgive her.

But he thought it out and went to the livery, still not sure what he was doing. He woke the owner there who roomed beside, and asked that one if he'd seen James Swan. Owner said James had run in, saddle bags packed and lickety split rode back out like hell on fire twenty minutes before. Did not say his destination and Edward should come back in the morning.

Well damn it and damn it again. Alright then. Here he'd been wasting time…he knew…he just knew he was looking in the wrong shit pile.

Well he'd prayed but truth to tell he hadn't expected an answer. Yet here was something. "You got a horse?" Edward said.

And this one was willing to pull on his britches if it meant money.

But he wanted to hem and haw and talk price, and Edward said, "No," and he felt his desperation start to close his throat, and he said, "Horse!"

And that took them out back, owner leading with a lantern, and there, stalled apart from the building and well back, a high fence around, was one alert ugly saddlehorse, pale like the horse called death in the bible, but strong in the knees it looked like and hate in the eye, well sass then, loco probably. Man who owned him never came and this one was stuck with it. And it was plenty mad caged that way.

Edward gave owner a gold piece and that man bit the piece and said, "Mister, I'll throw in the saddle and tack," and he ran, those feet looked like they hurt and all, and back out he handed that saddle and blanket to Edward cause it was pretty clear owner had no wish to try and saddle the horse himself.

Edward motioned with his head that fella should go away. The horse didn't like owner around. Oncet that one left, running like Edward was about to light a short wick on a big stick of dynamite, Edward looked at that horse. He walked over there slow and that beast was shaking its head and it moved away from the gate and when it stilled Edward lifted the latch and went in.

It was a horrible looking horse, well not so horrible, but not fine at all, kind of like him maybe. Maybe.

He hooked the far stirrup onto the horn so it wouldn't flop when he set the saddle. He had these two tricks and if they didn't work he'd resort to brutality cause he had no time for this one's bad memories.

So he let that animal shift some and tell him off a little, and he waited patient like the put-on wife or some such, then when that horse felt like Edward was in his place he went around the offside and lifted that saddle, blanket beneath it, and that horse moved and told him off some more and Edward waited and when it settled some he moved in again and from the off side he lifted that saddle to break what this one expected.

Well he had it corralled close to the fence enough he got it on this time cause it was a damn saddle horse after all and not some bang-tail needing broke, he hoped, wishing he had time to choke that owner some, but since he did not, he got that blanket and saddle in place at least.

He did not have to throw the cinch from this position and usually that made all the difference for these skittish types and he did go back and forth slow and easy and every time he had to wait for this horse to settle he thought of shooting it and the owner who probably watched and snickered from in the building, he thought of killing both just for the release, but he did not and got that saddle on and the tack after and he mounted that thing then, that horse looked like death.

The horse wasn't happy, but not so unhappy either. More like pissed off and resigned and Edward would take that. He only needed it to get him close enough to James Swan…well all the way and whatever that meant but for sure this one wasn't going to be in that heavenly return of Jesus cause this was most likely going to the other place as it already had him gnashing his teeth.

And they rode out of that pen he'd been in and he had a quick flash through Richmond and followed the road Washington way there, and he thought of his gun and the cartridges, and come to it, he had plenty.

And he knew, knew those prayers were still firing cause oncet he left the city and the dark moonlit night and sparse and air moving against him with damp and cool…this horse…Lord and glory this rotten piece of unloveable animal flesh never been adored or inspired pride in his stinkin' life with this weird color almost let you see his innards straight through his coat, this sickening horse he'd paid five times too much for and took four times longer to saddle than a pack of mules…was born to run itself into glory land or Hades…was born to die digging his angry hooves into the dirt…but in perfect four stepping gait that moved with the blurr and whirr of fearless attack…this horse…this horse…this horse…made him hope.


	37. Chapter 37

Bringing Bella Home 38

Sleep, Lord, not on this horse. Not on this journey. He'd choke a grandma for a cup of coffee. The road was good and clear and as well traveled as the big road to hell. That well traveled. And smooth, not that this horse needed much of earth at all.

When he was in Douglas, did he ever dream he'd be goin' to Washington D. C.? He did not. This was the Yank pisspot alright. These were the ones killed so many good boys. Well he'd married one didn't he? He never held it against her…he wouldn't…but maybe that was what made her so…so…damn.

Well that wasn't so. It was brother against brother some times. Yank wasn't blood so much as brain, yeah Yank was brain for sure. That made it even worse. Cause anyone could be sick with it…that Yank way of thinking that some dowager in Washington had the right to tell a man in Tennessee what was what, well how was that any different than the king of England? Way him and Jasper saw it they'd fought that war already, that war against having them a king, well their grandpap had.

Come to slaves he cared not about that. He never owned another, never wanted to. Them set free was fine by him, especially after Douglas. But states having the right…well that was him having the right…that's how he saw it.

Next thing he knew, right there in the middle of his lofty thoughts, he was flying through the air without his horse beneath him. It only hurt when he finished a perfect backwards legs over head rollback. He groaned some and said, "Shit," right outloud. Then the ground spit up beside him because someone was shooting at him. Well that got him moving into some trees as he tried to figure out where in hell those shots came from. And his horse, that one had thrown him and it was running on like he was still in the saddle.

"Shit," he said again for he would never catch that crazy demon now.

Well another shot then right above his head and that tree splintered and he fell back. Someone was on that ridge other side of the road and shooting blind in this dark but damned accurate.

Riding fast as he'd been at night was tempting the devil he reckoned, but riding that fast into a trap had probably saved his life. And he'd like it to stay saved, but now he was on foot.

Then just like that, the middling about screamed in his head, and he thought, not now, but then…he knew what it had been trying to show him all along. And he about hit his head with dismay.

It took that fall to make him see it, to make him listen. All at once he knew. He knew.

Another shot was fired, but it was off by twenty yards. But even that didn't ruffle him much.

"James," he called out.

It got so quiet, bugs still as him.

"Who are you?" the shooter called.

"Striker," he said.

Another shot, same place but Edward had moved enough it didn't rattle him like that other.

"Striker's a mute," shooter yelled back.

"Reckon not."

Edward felt the silence then, the thoughts of this shooter in the dark quiet.

But he moved again, knowing that one wanted to talk so he could draw a bead.

"You opened fire back there," shooter yelled.

"You did," Edward yelled back by way of explaining the shoot-out in Charles' office.

More shots. All shooter had done is take time to reload his weapon.

There was just no talking to this one.

Now Edward would have to go to lengths, and he hated to go to lengths when he was this tired and this sore and this…ready to kill.

This road was protected by the army, and they were likely to attract attention cause this was not the west, but a well traveled stretch. Even he knew that.

"Truce!" Edward yelled.

Then nothing. He waited a decent amount of time then he took off making a wide circle, hoping to cross over the road and come up behind this devil. But soon as Edward crossed the road that one scared the liver out of him, mounted and crashing out of the trees.

The horse reared and Edward shot it through the heart. It dropped solid. James pitched forward and took the ground with his face like the cow catcher on a train engine pretty much. Just pitiful.

James was moaning and cursing and on his belly, then his knees that gun out and shooting wild. Edward came on him quick in the dark and knocked him on his back and landed knee first on James' right arm. It was broke seemed. He wrestled the gun from that left hand.

"I'll kill you just for that," James said, meaning his broke arm and not the fine horse just died in his stead.

"I'm sticking with you," Edward said raspy cause his throat hurt, well everything did. This one had no corner on pain so he could shut his yapper.

"You shot Charlie," he said. "My brother!"

"Folks was dyin'." Edward got off him then, holding both weapons.

James groaned and yelled, "Son of a bitch," and pulled himself to a sit cradling that broke arm.

Edward tucked James' weapon where his usually was. He went to the saddle and relieved that dead horse of the burden of James' rifle. And those were the heftiest saddle bags he'd ever seen.

"I need to get to Washington," James said.

"Law after you?"

"I reckon they're looking for you," he said. "I told them you killed my brother and that kid."

Edward had all he could do to keep his head straight. He wanted to kill this man so badly he could taste black powder on his tongue. And he had killed the brother. Both, in fact. But he doubted he'd done anything James hadn't wanted to do himself.

"You gonna kill me mute?" James said. He no sooner got this out than he leaned to the side and threw up. He righted himself groaning and Edward had not seen anything so disgusting since Douglas. Even in the dark his bloodied face was uglier than Edward's own now. But he had plenty more to say, "You're a killer. You got the smell of death on you and I knew it first second I seen you."

Edward nodded, "Still work for you…Mister Swan. Need money is all." He hefted James' saddle bags. "Can take yours…or…you got a job…I'll work."

James stared at him there. Just to prove himself Edward brought those bags to James and laid them beside. James didn't trust this…no he didn't. But he was knocked off track some too, and in such a state he might listen.

Finally James said, "If I'm alive in morning and you ain't stold my gear…."

Edward nodded. He thought of Jasper so he could conjure conciliatory. Otherwise he wouldn't have the first idea.

So exhausted and hurting, Edward said, "I gotta tie your leg to that tree yonder."

"What for?"

Edward took the saddle and blanket off that dead horse and settled it by a tree for James. That one struggled onto his feet and staggered to the tree and dropped there, graceless and all. Edward brought the saddle bags close to him so he could rummage with his good hand and get something for all that blood running close to his eyes. Then he cut the reins off that horse and hating the waste, he readied to put it to good use and stood there while James moved some and got his leg close to the tree.

Edward saw that knife in James' hand. "You fixin' to try and use it?" he said.

James glared some, then he stuck the blade in the dirt beside him. Edward retrieved it and stuck it in his scabbard. Animal came in the night after that blood James could shout it off. He had the big mouth for such.

Then he tied James' leg to the tree and that one did not argue.

Come sun-up Edward woke first and James was in a heap, looking like a pile of dirty clothes lying at the base of that tree. He hadn't even tried to escape and good thing cause Edward woke in the foulest mood.

But he pissed and stayed on task, finding the right kind of sticks to make a good splint for James' arm. He drew close and kicked James on the leg a couple of times to wake him. James was groggy and muttering and swatting at him, but he kicked him again. Were they out far enough he'd fire a shot close to his ear. That would wake him.

But he did not do such, just kicked.

James was muttering hateful, then yelled in agony as he moved his arm without being fully awake, and then he was fully awake.

Edward had the two sticks and the clean shirt James brought along, a good boy, well raised you could tell, and Edward tore that fine linen into strips right there, and he placed those splints and tied them secure, then made a sling for it all and tied it behind James' neck, the very neck he'd like to wring with his bare hands, and he untied James' leg and stood back.

James glared at him for it had surely hurt like anything the way he'd pulled this way and that all in the name of good will.

So James struggled onto his feet, found his hat upturned and put that on. And that dried blood on his face, well it was ghastly, and some skin off under all that dried red with the debris stuck in it. Not pretty, no.

Edward shouldered James saddle bags and his rifle and the two guns stuck in his belt, and the knives in his scabbard, and he waited like a marm while James pissed. Then he drank from James' canteen and allowed James the same and off they went.

They had walked some miles, ten perhaps, before a wagon overtook them and that one looked at them trepidatiously as they did not have a sanguine appearance at all, but he understood being thrown from a horse, but two being thrown, it was downright shameful to say such, yet James did spill their troubles.

The teamster told them to hop in back and they did, crates of chickens, and boxes and they rode there and it was another ten and them silent and dozing and waking and spitting and hungry and lo and behold there was Edward's pale horse munching grass side of the road and looking like he'd risen out of the ground for strange.

Edward leapt out the back of that wagon, and as he did James grabbed his revolver from the back of Edward's belt. Edward drew the other quick and they was aimed at one another just like that and the wagon was moving away. Edward pulled his hammer and paced to match that wagon and James pulled his and Edward knew it was empty but the very idea pissed at him.

They got stuck like that for a spell, and Edward lowered his first, then James. Well, he'd be backshot once he went for that horse if intent was a cartridge. That's how it was.

So he turned his back and said, Lord…and that's all and he stumped his way toward that munching horse cause if he'd shot James he'd scared off this beast and have to explain to that teamster, so he stumped there and tucked that gun and that beast lifted his head while he chewed and blew out some.

Edward continued. He walked slow there and he got close and that one side stepped and this went on enough Edward didn't like that wagon moving forward and James armed now, and the rifle in there even though both useless. So he walked away and that horse walked some too, and Edward turned then and waited and that animal came up and bumped him with its nose on his shoulder and Edward said, "By damn."

He moved slow and reins in his hand, boot in the stirrup, he got on its back then and it took some angry steps and made a noise, shook its head, and he waited, barely breathing. Then that one moved onto the road and Edward squeezed his legs just a little and it did trot to that wagon there, little too quick, but it slowed when he encouraged. They trotted there close, and James did stare and glare for his middling seemed strong as Edward's maybe.

"Damn ugly horse," James called.

Edward snorted. He wished he had a mirror. Talk about ugly. Looked like half that shithole's nose got erased.

But he kept still. Conciliatory. His time of riding with the chickens and the chicken shit James was over. He had his horse now. And he had the knowing got knocked into him when Pale dumped him on that road. He knew how this played out. He'd see.


	38. Chapter 38

Warning readers: Harsh brutality here. If you are sensitive to reading this type of reality, do not read this chapter. I held back, believe it or not, but still, it is a tough story.

Bringing Bella Home 38

First thing he thought upon viewing the unfolding of Washington was, we weren't ever gonna win that war.

And they had not. Now that was some foolish thought for the south was grand, with its grand places, but this city, it had something to it that was hard to corral. This city took you in its Yankee hands and scrunched you up smaller and set you back down on your tiny feet with no pardon me at all.

Bella had never told him this, never mentioned she was from a city that resized you upon entering its gates. Why had she not said this? Maybe it had something to do with running away on their wedding trip before….

Leave it to her to come from grandeur. Well damn just leave it to her.

Big beautiful tree lined avenues poured from six directions toward the big, majestic capitol building of these United States. Damn those Yanks.

Jasper would not believe. Em and Jacob, they couldn't imagine this. This…kingdom had held them in Douglas. They weren't ever getting out. How had they? This was…power. No matter how many trees or bushes or nice flowers you planted, this was…this was might.

Edward had to take himself in hand and remember his cause. James was inside a two-storied house seeing a doc, but this part of town was more ramshackle, the kind of place James surely came from, for all him trying to look respectable.

James had yelled when Doc reset that arm but he was pretty damn drunk already. Edward waited out front like his darkie. Well he was not nearly as fine as some of the Negroes around here. They was nothing like the freedman close to home. This one worked for the doc was dressed so fine, even in this shabby house. He wouldn't have put his little finger Edward's way looking like he did. Told him to go around back and the cookie would give him coffee. He gave him biscuit and meat, too, and it melted like butter on his tongue.

James came out finally, holding a bottle of whiskey, his once fine clothes looked like shit. He perused up and down the street. "Get the hell over here," he said.

Edward walked over leading Pale.

James' face had been cleaned of blood and small rocks and vegetation. Well, it looked like a map. A red patch about the shape of south America pretty much covered his face from his plowed through brows to his upper lip. He drank that whiskey in a most peculiar way, tipping his head, pouring it in his cheek trying not to get any on his raw lip and cursing when he failed.

Edward reminded himself not to smile.

James took another drink. "I been thinkin' on it." He pointed the bottle at Edward. "Why'd you play the mute in Richmond?"

Edward played the mute now and James walked near as he could.

"You're wanted for more than killing my brother ain't you." James' drunk expression was sure and proud.

Edward nodded like he'd been found out.

"Sure you are," then he sneered, "Striker. Killer."

Well that wasn't so far from the truth.

James burped long and loud and sour. "Here's how it sets, I got a job needs doin'. I'll pay you some in front…and after…some more."

Edward held his breath. He let it out shaky and could barely pull in. So for a while they walked slow and Edward no longer knew where he was he waited so intent.

"You do me wrong…this country ain't big enough. I hunt forever…what's mine. You do me wrong…ooh-ee," James said.

He stopped walking and Edward's eyes landed on that new white wrapping on the broke arm cause what this one just said meant so much. This one would have never stopped hunting Bella. It all made sense now.

James held out his hand. "Give me my knife you bastard."

Edward did that.

"You ever take what's mine again, I'll cut you down the middle in your sleep."

Edward held James' crazy stare. He breathed in and blinked out the look of hate came into his eyes natural. Then he nodded.

They roomed in a small house near the Potomac. Edward sat at the table there and James laid it out. "I got a man coming in end of the week. I'll show you where and how. There's a woman with him. You and me…we'll go to a meeting. You'll kill him and not hurt a hair on her head. Understand?"

Edward nodded.

"Say it!" James yelled slapping the table.

"I understand," Edward said.

"She's mine. And you know what I said I'd do."

Edward nodded then before James could yell again he said, "I know what you'll do…boss."

Edward felt such a rippling under his skin he thought he'd have to ruin everything so he could flip this table and kill James. He held it though, this herd of horses running through, he held it and sat there and kept his eyes on that one.

"Boss," James sneered. "You double cross me…." The threat was supposed to hang there, but James had no idea how simple that threat was compared to the one he lived under. The one he had not the middling sense to realize.

"How much?" Edward asked to break the staring James did.

"Fifty before…and more after."

Putting a price on a life like they was at market.

"When I get my fifty?" Edward asked.

James shook his head, so disgusted, so put-upon. "When I say," he yelled, then he winced again and sat back some for he'd stretched his face too much and there was bleeding. Edward watched that fresh red line break in that meat, and the red dripped onto the table. James saw that and said, "Shit," and went in search of the rag the doctor gave him.

They were getting tied now, yoked in sin. It repelled Edward and drew him for he wanted this and knew there would be hell to pay stepping so close to such a one.

To pretend patience, to pretend conciliatory, it was needful, felt impossible, more than he was up for. But not when he thought of her tied to this sick hunter.

James only thought he had the most conviction came to what was his.

"Get out of here now so I can sleep," James slurred.

"Can I have five dollars, boss?" Edward asked like he was the dumbest beast ever lived.

"You gettin' a whore? Girls in Richmond said you never dipped your wick. Said you was a sodomite."

"My pecker don't work," he said, thanking Jasper for that, too. "They laugh at me."

"What the hell you mean it don't work?" James shouted. "Get it out and let me see."

What in hell. He pulled anything it was not gonna be his pecker.

"Get it out," James yelled again.

"I ain't," Edward yelled back. "I had to do that in the war…for the guards there. I ain't pullin' it for no fella ever again." This crazy act released some of what he felt and he let it go, even pulling his gun and holding it on James. "I ain't gonna do it."

"Put that damn gun away you loco son of a bitch," James yelled.

Edward acted conflicted, then he put it back in his belt, letting his face drop, looking the moron.

"You don't pull a gun on me ever. I seen what you do when you pull a gun!" James yelled and carried on, pacing. Then he got inspired, "Hey. That's why you fight like that…you ain't a man no more." He thought he struck gold. "Well we'll get you a woman, two women and see then. I want to watch this." James held that bottle toward the ceiling and laughed with his mouth so wide he split his face some more then he groaned and took a drink and threw that bottle onto the hearth and it shattered there and the smell of that liquor and if there was a fire well it would be all over about now.

"Shit," he yelled, dabbing with that rag again.

He laid on the cot then, one foot still on the floor. "You are one sorry assed piece of work, Striker. What prison you in?"

Edward didn't answer.

"Oh…you mute again?" James said.

Edward just stood there, arms folded now. James was snoring already.

Edward went to the table and sat. He leaned his elbows there and laid his head. He would use this broken pecker story to keep James entertained and distracted. It was just the sort of bait this one would take. And he'd stumbled on it, but no more so than that horse.

One long week of James' lasciviousness—cards, liquor, opium, whores. Two, three women at a time, and so drugged and entwined and unable to perform and get to it.

Came to the opium, Edward felt the effects in that saturated den, and he stumbled there and tried to stay alert, Lord. The sights and smells of used flesh and abuse and degrading acts. He'd learned at Douglas to draw himself in, to be small and still in the middle of hell, and he did it now and wondered if his mind could hold.

James' joke all week long was to get Edward's pecker working, telling the girls how he lost it in the war, them begging to see, Edward refusing, allowing just enough degradation to keep James sated. The girls were sympathetic to Edward, then making jokes, or trying to climb all over him. He resorted to pushing them away, getting mean.

James insisted Edward didn't like women. They'd get him a dandy instead. Edward stayed passive, stayed quiet. He came and went, always knowing where James was, making sure no one killed him before he knew, before he found Bella.

The dandy was hired and brought in the room where James held court. Edward was called in, James insisted. Edward had never seen the like, not in Richmond even, but here it was now and he just pitied these sold their flesh, their own slave-masters.

So he drank some just to get through it, and pretended to drink some more, whatever it took to stay in this one's company.

And by Thursday night he was feeling some softening on the edges and they were atop a saloon there and the women were all over James, and these two men came in and Edward stood. He figured they were here for James, but that one would fix it with bribes, but they overtook Edward and he fought some, but he was sluggish and he hadn't been ready, and James was yelling at him not to fight.

And he did fight, and they got him down on the floor and they were big, one on each of his arms and legs, and he resisted and squirmed and James held a gun to his head and he instructed one of the women to get Edward's pants down. It took two women and the bullies and James to hold him, and they got him bare enough to see his privates, and she was trying to get on him, her mouth, and he was fighting and screaming deep and he had to reason with himself, his body was working and the clapping and gasp and sounds and she had to pull back because he wouldn't submit and he worked his arm loose from the one who grew tired of holding him down, and he dug his fingers into that one's face and got him off. One woman flew back for he kicked out and the other moved from fear, and that bully left he smashed his fist into that one's nose and back he went, and James had moved off still holding his gun, laughing and yelling like a loon.

Edward was on his feet, gun drawn as he yanked his britches up. He was huffing, daring those bullies to come on.

"What we do now?" one of them asked James.

"Let him go," James laughed waving the gun. "It's all in fun boys, just a spot of fun." Then he shot through the ceiling and plaster rained on the bed.

And Edward went to him and grabbed his gun away. James stared and Edward knew he looked like fury cause James showed some fear in those drugged eyes. "You gonna split me in my sleep?" Edward said, cause he took what belonged to James.

Then he held two guns on those two bullies, hammers back. "Get out," he said.

When they'd left, the women too, Edward tucked those weapons and dragged James to the bed and with his arm across James neck he spoke close to his face. "I let you up you need to get dressed, boss. This," and he had to swallow, "this don't change nothin'. We got work to do tomorrow."

Then he left off James' windpipe and stepped back to right his clothes.

James sat up breathing hard. He held his broke arm protectively. "We did it for you, you son of a bitch."

And he looked at James, and he grew still. Then he took James' gun from his belt, emptied its cartridges there on the bed and handed it to him butt first. "You ready, boss?"

James took his gun, and stood up then, staggering around the room gathering his clothes and his boots with his one good arm mostly.

Edward tugged his hat on. His gun had tore up his back, and he knew he was pretty drunk, and it was hard to walk solid, and he was sore all over, no time to heal ever.

And James had to pay some extra downstairs, they was none happy over those women shoved around and the bullies and the room tore up some and that gunshot.

James made good and they staggered home and Edward made sure he got to bed. Then Edward laid there in front of that hearth where he'd cleaned the glass James broke there, and it still reeked of whiskey. And he laid on his back, and he knew he'd gone low as James wanted, pushed low down and that was the gauntlet he had to run to be degraded sufficiently before James would use him to kill.

And come the next day, well that was end of the week. It was only a matter of hours now. Everything then…everything put right.


	39. Chapter 39

Bringing Bella Home 39

Gray light of morning. They, Bella and Dwyer, should reach Richmond today, Friday. They were bringing Charles Jr. straight to Washington. His mother would want it. It was a day's trip here, less than that. They would bring the body to the cemetery, to this grave being dug in the chill and drizzle.

Senior was already planted in Richmond, James said, spitting there and wiping his mouth over that good hand.

They looked like hell the week they had. James' face cracking with scab. This was his life, but not so for Edward. Well none of it, but there was iron in him came to setting a course. He had never been at this one's mercy, not oncet. He had put himself here, like a boulder in the river. He knew to stay with this one would lead him straight to Bella. He knew to stay with this one was the only way to make sure he was killed.

And the lesson from Douglas was all the more now. Sometimes good came out of evil. Sometimes evil came out of good. It was up to him what he let it do to him inside. Knowing such was powerful.

So he sat on Pale, James on the one he'd bought from the livery, black stockings on a brown. They were there, those two and James told him, Dwyer was to be killed at the graveside. There would be the mother and the preacher. He was to kill them, too. But not the younger woman. He was not to harm that one for she belonged to James. Then he asked Edward if he had hesitation in killing a woman.

"No," Edward said. For if James was a Janey, Edward would still kill him.

So there it was, that grave, and those two diggers, trading off.

They watched some more and James talked some more, and they looked how it lay and talked about where and how. James handed him the first fifty then, minus the five he'd given Edward earlier in the week. He'd get the rest after the killings, then James didn't want to ever see him again. If he did, he'd kill him. Did Edward understand?

He surely did.

So those two diggers finished after another hour and Edward was wet through for the drizzle was penetrating. And James sipped from a flask. They had dismounted and sat there, under a tree, smoking like old pards might, quiet mostly now, and those diggers moved off and James said, "Let's walk it," and they did then, horses tethered, and they stood at that hole there, James looking in. And Edward knew exactly what he was thinking. He wanted to see the depth of that hole.

And before he spoke his mind, Edward, his knife already in his hand, took hold of James broke arm and turned his body quick and drove that knife under his heart and up, and up, and James, that red sick face smelled like meat and his eyes bugged out, and the knowing, the brief knowing, and Edward said, "For Bella."

And he had his strength behind that long wicked blade, stopping that heart that demon wanting to beat, and the red pumping, and long seconds passed, maybe more, and the weight sagged, as he pulled that knife he turned that body again and let it drop into the grave, and he looked down at that one, that hideous one who's soul was clawing the rest of the way down to hell.

He wiped his knife on the grass and sheathed it, then using his hands like shovels he threw dirt over that one until he was covered enough nothing showed. And the satisfaction he felt and the sick and the shaking in his limbs. He lifted his face and the mist on it, and the sky gray and clouds like webs moving across like smoke, and he said, "Thank you, God."

He said that.


	40. Chapter 40

Bringing Bella Home 40

A hard thing to sell Pale to the livery. He'd given the other to a boy in the street, and that one promised to take good care of such a horse. But Pale…way he figured, that one wasn't put on this earth to be owned. The next one needed him, whoever that wayfarer was.

So he walked to the station and got the time for the next train in from Richmond. Then the time after and the time after that, and next days times, too.

And he waited and smoked too much and paced and waited. He couldn't rest, and he shouldn't. Most important part was still ahead, the thing he'd been working toward, striving and struggling toward. Phil Dwyer.

He went to the boys there worked to unload the freight, and he spoke to one. That one was from Louisiana, Third Regiment, and they spoke of the south and that one had fought and his brother fell at New Orleans. And Edward told him of the body coming in from Richmond and it his old pard from the days of the cause and he could not linger for he'd miss his train, but could he view that body here?

And it wasn't done that way, but didn't take so much to pry the lid. And Edward did have that forty five dollars, for he had earned it, killing and all, and he gave that boy a handsome reward and that one said, "Sure, I'll give you time, but just long as it takes to unload another car."

So it was set, Richmond train came in he could see his friend there.

And when that train came in, Edward waited where she might not see him if she looked, he held back, but he watched and he told himself, she comes off you can't feel it, you can't. And he about gave up so many off first, but then he saw a hat, not even her, not even a hat he'd seen before, and that man behind her, fancy suit, regular size. Another gift. He could not look anywhere else then.

Edward come up quick and her not ready and speechless he heard her gasp and he spoke quick to that man there and he said, "Sir, I'm from the railroad here and we got a mix up, two bodies back there don't know which. Can you identify?"

And that one nodded slow. He didn't like it. And he took that Dwyer's arm and he ignored Bella and she did not call out to him, but he knew she was some back. He went to that boy then and he nodded, and that boy looked at Dwyer and he said car four, and there were six, and that boy took him there and yanked the door and told Edward to hurry, and he gave him a bar, and Edward got in there and said, "Lend a hand," to Dwyer and that one had trouble heaving himself up and in and didn't like his pants done that way, nor the scuff he got on his shoe.

The coffin was on top of some boxes and Dwyer said, "His name is right there on the shipping label."

Edward said, strain in his voice, "They's mixed though. Got to make sure." And he worked that bar quick on the lid and Dwyer fussed he didn't have to lift the whole thing, did he?

Well, he did.

And he worked and worked that lid, and Bella did not show, and she was fine for all the trouble was with him here, and he got that lid off and the stench on such a body held so long, and he did not care for it, and Dwyer said, "It's him," and a cloth over his nose, and Dwyer turned to go and Edward grabbed him from behind, an arm around his neck as he pulled him back from the door, toward that coffin, and he pushed the blade against Dwyer's coat, that tip, and he said, "If you want to die…this is the time. I am here for Bella."

"I…I meant her no harm."

"You was consenting. All along. You have robbed her."

He pushed the knife through that expensive suit and nicked the skin beneath.

"Oh God," Dwyer said clawing at Edward's arm across his neck, his back bowed. "I never…meant her harm."

"You have the money?"

"Yes," and he cried some, "yes."

Edward pushed deeper. Dwyer made a sound.

"You knew he would take her."

"He wouldn't hurt Bella," Dwyer said.

Edward lifted that knife some and Dwyer grunted.

"Who are you?" he panted.

"Striker," he whispered. Then he tightened his arm on Dwyer's neck until the air was cut off, and he felt the sag coming as Dwyer struggled, and he pulled hard cause he was strong as a bull. He pushed Dwyer forward and that one fell against some freight.

He half rolled and dragged that body to the coffin then and dumped it in there. Then he took Dwyer's money pouch and picked it clean. He saw the money belt, but he wanted no more than this.

He had to work like a teamster to get those two settled in that one box. Lucky they'd got a good box and it was bigger than some. He got them together, Jacob and Esau. Time Dwyer was conscious again he wasn't gonna be none too happy about his suit. Edward stuck the lid on there and pushed at the nails. Some went in easy, some not at all. He figured Dwyer resurrected he'd give a few a story they'd tell even when they were grampas.

He was done he jumped out. The boy was working on the car in front, but it was Bella he looked for. She stood there biting her lip.

He walked to Bella waiting there, worry, maybe terror on her beautiful face. He told himself to hold on, to be strong.

She said, "Turn your coat inside out." And she was already trying to rip it from him, and he shrugged out, turned it round and put it back on now he'd flashed his weapons. Lord.

She said, her voice trembling, "Did you hurt Mr. Dwyer?"

He said, "Get two tickets, whatever sets here to go. Fast." He took the carpetbag from her hand and gave her the last of his money.

She ran off and he moved away from that car four, all the way down the line. And a whistle was blowing and he looked back and she was at the window and she got the tickets and came running.

"Hurry," she said. She led him then, they crossed the tracks and got on a small train, one passenger car, headed west, and that suited him.

And they climbed in and walked through, all the way, and last seat she entered and he fell beside her, sitting heavy, and he held her bag on his lap. And a little boy and his ma sat facing them and that kid stared at Edward, and he thought of Em, and if he could a smiled he would have, but he was pretty empty just now. Or too full. That was it.

And the kid said, "Mister…your coat is wrong," and he pointed, and Edward did smile then.

He felt Bella's hand on his arm and he could not look at her yet, not yet, just at the kid, then straight ahead, but he wasn't seeing much, just trying to breathe. And they took off, whoo-hoo, and clackety-clack, his body hummed with the relief, like a mother rocking him…that train…Bella's hand.

He didn't look when they passed that other train, he kept his eyes ahead, and they did not speak, but sat there, and it was sunset, he realized, and she took care of handing the tickets when the conductor came and he did not answer when the man tried to be friendly, but she spoke and Edward could not say what.

And his eyes closed and he stilled, and her arm there, two hands on his arm.

He didn't sleep but he wasn't awake, he just was. And she held on and it was like that river some, the Piney, like they was still in it, but he wasn't trying to save her no more. She was tethering him.

It had always been Phil Dwyer. Always been him. That's what his middling told him night Pale dumped him on the road to Washington.

Now things was done.


	41. Chapter 41

Bringing Bella Home 41

On the train, they were quiet for a long time. That boy finally fell asleep, and Edward had too, barely keeping his eyes open or wanting to. When he awoke, he stared for a long time at her hands on his arm. He had his hat on, pushed over his eyes, it the only way to get some room for himself and this big feeling. So her hands there, they hadn't let up. And he knew she tried to look at him, he had felt her eyes, but it was too much so he looked at her hands and he felt them, and they were real and they gripped. But no ring. She had taken off that ring.

So when he could speak, dark pressing on the windows and the moving there, he did reach his hand over and touch her ring finger, just that one where that ring should be, and she did move then and turn her collar down and unpin the ring from in her dress.

She took it from there and put it on her finger once more.

He moved his hat just enough to see that mother across sleeping, the boy's head in her calico lap. He did hold his hat before his face and turned to Bella, stealing himself some to look, and Bella leaned in and his hat covered them both then, and he looked at her so close, and her at him, dark it was but not so much her eyes didn't shine there and she had tears running but she sniffed and held his gaze then, and breathing, and it was some time, some time and there behind his hat they let the door crack between.

Time they got off they was deep in Yank country, Ohio, north of Columbus, there was rooms there for those who traveled, by the station, nothing fancy, barely private, but that suited two needing to move or die.

So they took a room, a stall for folks more like, and he yanked the curtain and she followed for he pulled her and she threw herself against him and it knocked him a step back and he dragged them to the cot there and sat awkward and heavy and pulled her close as he could and her clawing to be on him, and he held her on him then, his back on the wall, and he held her and let her be, and she cried some, and he got drier and dry the more she broke open, and he held her fierce, just quiet. It was what he had to give…his muscle hard and his heart too, but...he felt her there, the size, the shape, the weight on him, and him beneath, he held her like that and his arms did not ease.

Come morning they were folded together, he was stiff and sore and feeling like hell, and he could barely move, didn't want to, had to. He got himself free of her and she didn't wake, rolled onto her side and he covered her lower half with that blanket for it was just cold already, but he didn't want that wool by her face for others used such and he didn't trust it worthy. And he could scarce leave her…but nature….

And he went to the outhouse, needing some time he realized…to relieve himself and gather himself and he walked to one of the pans lined there on the shelf and brittle shine of ice on the top of the pitcher, he poked that through and cold in his hand, he poured that crisp water into the bowl and dunked his face, top of his head, hair was growing and he would allow. There was soda there and he took a rag and worked over his teeth. Looking glass, cracked some but usable on the wall. His whiskers and his eyes so stern and needy and he hated that. Did he look like a killer? Was that him?

He'd lost weight, and sore, shit. When's the last time he took a shit, or ate enough, or cared enough, or had the time to do either.

And then a panic, what if she was gone, got took, and a hurried walk back.

She was where he left her. He was about crazy, and he breathed out, hand rubbing over his face, his beard, caught there looking at her, small under the blanket, hair spilling rich and heavy under the silliest hat ever made, and he reached to touch her cheek, but he could not came to it, his hand so rough near that cream and him like that blanket for dirty….

So he went to the big room and there was coffee and he got that, hand shaking, his heart aching, and looked at the schedule cause this place was nothing and they needed south and he was rattled from her…so deep down…and he rubbed his chest while he read the times.

And they had a little store there in the corner, and just about anything. Baths too, out back, and he bought him a shirt, the one she made so bedraggled. He forgot about the bath. Not yet. They had breakfast cooked and he went to get her and change, and he did that, his inside out coat with the blood inside back on.

She sat up there and she said, "Edward," so softly, just that, and he thought to never hear it again and he wanted to shout that. Did she understand? What her leaving done? Then she said, "Is Mr. Dwyer dead?"

That's what she cared about? All this time? All they went through and Mr. Dwyer is the first thing she brings up to him?

He had to step back out and rub over his face. Oh God, this woman. His woman.

He best go outside. And he did that, and he paced some there, just back and forth and he wanted a smoke now so he went inside and bought the makings and that one tried to talk but his old ways were in him strong and folks seemed to know he was different. And he went outside and rolled him a smoke and that first pull in…Lord.

And he wished he had Jasper…that one would put his hands on Edward and look him in the eye and say, "Get hold of yourself," like they done for each other.

And he would…he did. But he'd been savage a long time…since she left…another side of him in charge…and now…he had her and he couldn't be with her…and he'd never be without her…again…but with her…he didn't know…what if he couldn't be with her?

The train had helped more than he knew, the moving of it, the folks near. But here, him in that room with her. There was too much and no privacy.

Then he wanted to go right back in there and stare at her some more. But he didn't want her to talk. Not to say one word. And he didn't want her to look back at him all the time. He didn't know what he wanted…well he wanted her just to be there.

So he went in, and he whipped that curtain back, and she wasn't there. Where was she? He pulled back the next curtain and a man yelled, there in his longjohns, and the next and the next and them all empty, then he tore through the big room and she wasn't there, and the man asked what, and he ignored and went out front, then around the back and she was coming from the outhouse fiddling with her skirts.

"Edward?" she said, then she took another look and he must have looked mad or crazed for she was just standing there looking, her brows veeing in.

He marched to her, well he'd had about enough, and she cringed, and he took her arm and started to drag her to that station and she resisted, pulling back, pulling away. "Let me go," she yelled.

And here came that one in his longjohns still and he looked concerned, didn't know what they were doing, and Edward glared at him and said, "Put your pants on!"

And that one hurried past into the gents side of the outhouse.

"Edward," Bella whispered harsh, "Edward…did you hurt…Mr…?"

"That all you can say?" he said, fire, true fire shooting out of his eyes, ears, voice, ends of his hair, pores of his skin, threads on his clothes. He couldn't believe the fire.

He dare not put his hands on her again, he dare not.

They were stuck now and he could hear that train coming from far and it blew its call.

He ripped his eyes off of her and stalked off and he peeked that she had followed, but slow and her back so straight. "We are boarding this train," he said and he kept walking and when they got to the building he stood on the porch and she went in for her bag but he couldn't look at her.

She came out and she stood beside and they did wait until they could go to that train and they got on, and he took the first two seats with just a wall there so they did not have to share their four-square this time, and be stared in the face, and he stood aside, his hand on that aisle seat and eyes on the ceiling and his lips sealed as he waited for her to step past him and get by the window and sit. Then he followed and sat and this time the bag was on her lap for he had not offered to carry it even.

And they sat and he kept readjusting, well nothing felt right, nothing did, gun up his ass….

And he pulled off his hat and fiddled with it, spun it around, then hefted it up and down and she put her hand on it he should still.

Well he shifted some more, legs out, hitting that wall, legs pulled back and him sighing and moving side to side.

Then he did whisper, just as that train was starting to rumble forward, "You got a lot of nerve. Hell of a lot."

She stared some at him, he felt two smoking holes in his cheek from it.

"I'm afraid of you. I know…I know what I did…but…are you going to punish me? Do you want to?"

Oh, she did not say such.

His mouth dropped open, wide open. He sat forward, staring into her face, and mangling his hat between his hands. Now he could meet her eyes. He got right up to her. "You left…our bed."

Now he did want some words. Something to make this better. But she only nodded. "Mr. Dwyer…," she said.

There is nothing worse she could say. He wanted to put his hand over her mouth and make her swear to never mention that one again. She had fear in her eyes and he remembered how it was his mission to always keep that wedding smile on her face…his smile…and now…this look….

"Don't talk to me no more," he said through his just scrubbed teeth, mad as sin and he stared at that wall again. Then the conductor wanted their tickets and he slapped them in the man's hand and ignored everything after he was so fixed on her.

And just as quick she reached for his arm and held on again. And had she not…he would have died.

"If you would have gone home…I sent a wire. You would know then I was fine. I was fine, Edward."

Close to her face again, "If I went home? How'd I know? You got any idea who I am? Any idea?"

She had nothing to say, her mouth open. Then he felt sorry for her…not knowing. But it didn't take away him wanting to punch his fist through that window other side of her head.

"What did you do to Mr. Dwyer?" She pressed on so stubborn it pushed him back to mute.

Then the evil took him over and he put his face right up to hers again, "I…," he lowered his voice and smiled wicked, "I put him in his coffin. Well…it wasn't just his…." He left off, sitting back and having a good chuckle when he saw her face. He was hurting her and liking it some.

"You are joking," she said like a Yank.

"I never joke about such…coffins and the like," he said.

"You killed him?" she whispered, horror in her eyes.

"I don't know. I surely don't care."

He could feel the hatred for him rolling off. He should have left her in Washington with her kind. What had he been thinking to drag her off. She didn't want him. That's why she run. It were plain regret. And here he burst in killing her kin. She wanted them. What had he been thinking, buster from the hills. He was the biggest fool ever lived.

Well he had that wall to stare at. There was a rage building in him. First stop he was off and gone. Let her feel it, but it wouldn't be what he felt…so in love.

His dove…his love…not a rose. Cactus is what.

But her hand again, on him.


	42. Chapter 42

Bringing Bella Home 42

He just wanted out of Ohio and when they finally made it to Kentucky next afternoon well thank God and he could breathe some and he'd been careful to keep them out of Illinois cause him and Jasper made a pact they'd never venture in that land of Belial again oncet they was free, and being in St. Louis, that had been the thing and just like he knew all hell had broken loose there, and love had made him crazy then. And now.

They was still together, but their sleep had been interrupted changing one train for another and you couldn't sleep in passage less you was ready to die and he was so he did sleep fitful.

Well he'd come up with the perfect solution for their troubles. They just wouldn't talk about them at all. If they could wait it out, get past all this feeling, they could answer some of the questions by the by, but not now for some reason. It was just volatile.

So not talking was the best, always worked for him. So they was just traveling now, and he did not leave her and she did not tell him to, nor take off herself cause who could predict the likes of her. Well not him.

But he kept his eye on her no matter how much he tried to not care, to leave her to see to herself, he kept his eye on. He'd turn away and say he wasn't going to look, and then he'd look and he'd think, damn.

And she tried to talk and he told her nope, nope. And damn if she didn't say she liked him better mute cause least ways she could pretend he was loving and kind, and he wasn't ever talking to her after that.

So he brooded there, his legs stretched long in the aisle and folks had to step over and he didn't look or care to and him slumped and his hat over his face and thank God for that hat there, and he tried to sleep but mostly he just felt her there and was conscious of every little move she made and when her stomach whined for food he couldn't bear knowing she was hungry and he still had an apple in his pocket and had to work out a way to give it to her without her thinking it was all fine now.

Well he hated this and he wanted to go up top and smoke his brain into a chunk of driftwood, but it was raining and he'd only climb back down to make sure she wasn't gone. Damn her.

She didn't touch him either. If she did…no…he didn't want it. Well one minute he did, then not. Then he did. But he did not.

Well he got up and walked down the aisle and went out the back door and stood on the porch there, the wind reviving some and that good southern air and he got out the makings and rolled his last one and the door opened and it was hard not to look, but case it was her he didn't, but he'd been so alert so long, he had to know everything around him so he did look, and it was her alright and that hat was off finally and good thing cause it was ridiculous.

She looked fearful still, but he saw that stubborn right there too way she was looking and he was ready to hear he hoped.

"You don't get to say we can't talk," she said, that coldness in her eyes hardest thing.

He licked his paper and made a nice seam. Then he dug his matches and struck it side of the car there and shielded that flame from the wind and puffed it to life and he took a drag and she took it from him and he didn't fight it, but what in hell and she took a pull and coughed some, and waved her hand in front of her face and handed it back her eyes watered and he smirked and held a laugh and what in the hell was she trying to do. This weren't no peace pipe.

"That's disgusting," she said, hand on her throat.

He shrugged, and took another pull but on the breath out a smile got loose.

"You and I married. And…you swept me off my feet. You were the first one ever…made me feel safe. Love was sleeping in me and I didn't even know. Remember I told you…I couldn't love? I had not loved another living soul…until you."

He nearly forgot he was smoking, but he remembered of a sudden and looked off and took a pull.

"When Clarice approached me on the boat…I never had anything to lose before. I knew what I came from…I knew they were bad. But…I'd been gone so long…and you freed me, Edward."

Well, his name on her lips…he breathed in on that one and he looked away, but he was listening.

"I got caught up in it…that safety. And then…I was in love. I am…in love."

When he lifted his smoke, he felt the tremble in his hand so he lowered it and hoped she couldn't see such…weakness.

"But…they wouldn't stop looking for me. I realized the danger I'd put you in. I made myself face it. All my life…I pretended. I saw things. I saw people dragged off…I saw things through cracked doors, pleas and whispers and struggles and people gone one day…just gone."

"Like you," he whispered, but he hadn't meant to and that was what he hated now, this voice that crept out.

"No. More like with Phillip Dwyer. There…then gone."

Well damn she'd about had him until she said that. She was a backshooter just like her uncle James.

"Don't," she put her hand on him to still him, and he didn't like it…but it worked some. "Please…let me try…please."

He couldn't look at her. But she had his ear for just a second more, but one more shot like that last….

"You know now. You went right there. Edward…right into the heart of it. I nearly died when I heard you were there…when Junior wired us. I had no idea…why would you do that? Put yourself in the blackest part of it?

"Look for me? Yes, I figured you would…but not to such a length. You're right…I never…." She cried some more. He tried not to let it rip him apart.

He finished his smoke and pitched it over the rail.

She got herself quiet and said, "I went straight to Asheville and I knew you'd check the train so I got as far away from the wharf and went straight into the city. First church I saw I made up a terrible story and got passage out of town and money for the train to Asheville. I told them what Clarice had said on the riverboat, that my mother was dying and they were…good to me.

"It took three days to get there. I cried the whole way, missing you…aching for what you must feel. I had not left so much as a note. But I decided once I was there the crying was over. I knew that Phillip would be with mother, or through her I could find him. I had to push for my release. I had to grow up quickly and take responsibility for myself is what I reasoned. Marrying you on top of this mess? What was I thinking? You had to kill your way to me, that's how difficult I was to get to, and then what would you have to do to allow me to stay? Your cove where you and Jasper worked so hard, and Rosie with a child…how could I come in and…desecrate that with my troubles and these violent, heartless people I brought with me? Marrying you on top of that? It was…madness. I vowed I would not return to you and to them…my family…the first real family I ever had…until I had cleaned out every theat. If I didn't…I didn't deserve…you all. You gave me that courage. You taught me that."

Don't blame me, he thought.

"I knew Charles Swan did not want me for myself. I knew it was money. And those were the ties I would cut because I've never wanted a penny of it, and once I cut them he'd have no reason to pursue me. I reasoned that the danger you were under by marrying me would be over and I could return to you and beg forgiveness and we'd be safe then. It was just that simple to fix, I thought. You had shown me such love…I was overcome with it. It raised something in me, and then when Clarice…it's as if as soon as I opened myself to it…to love…it was threatened with what was coming…this looming…it's like the stories they terrorized us with during the war…the worry that the rebel soldiers would overtake our city and violate us…and kill us."

Now he did look.

"But you know them now. You know it wasn't that simple," she said.

He looked away again.

"You cannot look at me?" she whispered.

That brought it to them. Not on anyone else, what they did, what they did not do. But to them, the hurt there, whether it made sense or didn't…it was there. He loved her all out and she could hurt him because of it, get him in places…no other. She held his heart. He didn't have one without her. It didn't exist.

"I love you," he said bold and loud and without meaning to. But it was more by accusal.

"You do?" she whispered, and he nearly yelled in frustration until she said, "I mean…I know you do. I meant to say, still?"

He didn't like that either. This kind of love didn't come and go. Did she not understand?

Her hands on him. "I mean…don't be mad…please…but…I'm just glad. So glad, Edward."

He looked at her then, kept looking at her, the furrow working its way out of his brow some. He swallowed and his eyes lowered, almost as if his head bowed before her.

She took his hand then.

"Am I wanted in Richmond?" he asked, chin nearly to his chest.

"No," she said. "Why would you be?"

He lifted his eyes to her sweet face, that face had him in knots and tornadoes. They had so much to sort, but not their love. It stood like Pale, not lovely, but there. Hellacious. And…there.

Then she said, "What did Phillip Dwyer do that you would take such a measure?"

And he felt the furrows over his brain and he said, "He played all sides."

She looked so intently at him. "How…how could you know this?"

He shrugged. "Pondered it. Night and day. And it come to me."

"That's all?"

No, that was not all. "One night…James came in the bar there. And Charles Swan announced your mother had died. James had been traveling. He'd been gone. And he came in with that news, because he was in touch. With Dwyer. James had an underhanded way of fighting Charles. Dwyer. It was the money. They all had their hand in. I said, who's around it most? It was him."

"But he fought Charles…he fought the marriage," she said softly.

"For the money. For him and James. James hired me to kill him. At the grave. But not you. You'd go with him. There it was."

"How? I…James hired you to kill Phillip? He would take me? How…were you with James?"

He looked at her, stared at her, all the feelings in the world coming up in him, and he put his hands on her this time, on her arms. "I killed him for you. I killed them all now. Maybe Dwyer too. For you."

Her lips were open, and her eyes, and they might be there still but the whistle blew and he held onto her though it had scared her, but not him, he feared nothing…nothing…but the biggest thing a man could fear…losing his wife.

And she didn't pull back, or away, just looking at him, through him, seeing him, first time maybe, all the way through, just him, what he was, how he felt. Finally just him.

And when he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers so dry and warm and full, she did not pull away and she did not do more than submit, but it was him now, him deciding.

So he pulled back, his first taste of her and all he remembered of other tastes, of knowing her, and he hadn't dared, couldn't get to it even, until now, just a taste and all the fire in him, she'd be the death of him, had been, would be again. He ached now, louder, inside.

And her breathing. She kept looking through him. He wanted her to speak now, say something. But a minute at least before she gave him something. She nodded.

And that set him off again, his words, "I told him such…James. I told him it was for you. I drew a line way back we met. I took you. And I don't give oncet I set my mind."

She nodded again, and her breath shallow and she did not look away nor blink.

"Don't you fear me," he said.

She licked her lips. "I do. I fear I will never be good enough…for you." Her hand came to his face then, over the whiskers, her eyes so soft, melting soft and melting him. It was too much for this slab of wood under their feet for this place…for his own skin…too much. He loved her big, so big, that's why he'd done it all…and would do more.

He pushed her to the wall the car made there and he put his hand on her face, and told her shhh.

And she said, "Your voice…."

And he quieted her with a soft kiss, and they ran their hands that way, well one of his, with the other he held her to that wall.

"I nearly died away from you," she said, her voice so deep and full he feared she'd crumble so he held her there, "and…" so many tears coming, "I love you so much I was sick with it…and she died…my mother…such agony oh…it was horrible…it was so horrible…and I leaned on him….I didn't know….I didn't…I would have killed him myself…killed them all to keep you…oh Edward…Edward my love, my love," and she held his arms now and collapsed and he was wedged close on the narrow stair and he held her up then, hefted her and used the wall, and he quieted her, she had no way of standing as she broke it seemed and said his name over and over and again.

And he cradled her against him, cradled her head there by his shoulder, and he knew why he done it, all of it, everything he done, and it was nothing, nothing, nothing in compare to what he felt…what he knew about her…what she was to him…it was nothing…and her tears…they were cleansing him…freeing him…and a lightness was coming in…and a love was lifting its head and gasping like it had been held under the darkest water…and he never felt more a man…more a king…over himself and the dark and the hate…it was leaving…running for hell where it belonged…he was hers…just hers…just…hers.


	43. Chapter 43

Bringing Bella Home 43

The first time there in Frankfort was to set what got broke. For their future. They got the room, went there wooden like, up the narrow stairs and closed the door. Set down what they carried and shaking hands went to clothes. She was shy, turned away from him, so he peeled to his drawers and went to her, took her by the arm and turned her gentle, and he helped her some when it took too long, and he laid her dress over a chair and turned and then he scooped her right up to the bed and right on top there, no time or care to pull things back, he laid her down and lined his flesh with hers and said, "Alright?" and she pulled him to her and kissed him sweet and whispered, "Yes."

He joined with her then, such control to gentle in. He stayed still long as he could so they could know and feel themselves together. Then he couldn't hold anymore and took off and she was soft and open to him and Lord he wasn't in this room no more, it swift and fierce and those times he'd felt desperate were in it and Bella, Bella, my God, and he let that all go, he was loving, then hammering love, and her rising, I love you, I love you and the water came to his eyes and she said his name, Edward. And he groaned aloud for the name, for it all, and her, and he went to pieces….

And he liked to could not breathe for a minute, it went white even, everything, and she huffed same as him, and they was wet where they'd joined but all over with exertion, only taken a couple of minutes but you'd think he'd been tossin' hay for the state he was in, Lord.

And he got off her and fell heavy beside and gathered her in his arms and he knew she cried now for it seemed to be so, and he reached to cover her for he was boiling but she would not be and he pulled some over her and held her in his arms, her flesh so warm and round and comfort and she did cling to him and rain poured outside, just poured down and he knew they were hungry and none too clean and none of it mattered but what they'd done.

"Edward," she whispered, "thank you, my love."

And he laughed some, inside himself, and he crushed her to him, and more tears leaked, and he kissed her hair…and in his middling mind he knew…just knew…he'd done some plantin'.


	44. Chapter 44

Bringing Bella Home 44

Second time Edward and Bella came together was after long hours of sharing brick and mortar of what they'd gone through while apart. There was no way to true harmony but through it…the debris…aftermath of battle…smoke…death…sorrow.

For his part, Edward held Bella in that room while she told her tale. The care of her mother, and Bella forgiving that one before she went to judgment. Not that her mother had asked for it. Even in death Renee was preoccupied with fighting him…Charles Swan. The case served as distraction from the rude truth…she was toes over the hereafter and refusing to look.

And Charles Swan…his core gone to rotten.

Then the discovery of her half brother. She'd never known him, only seen him twice and knew him as cousin and distant. And soon dead. Shot in the Silver Swan. So many truths coming now, shouted from the roof-tops and dropping on her like brimstone.

She had pitied her mother even as she mopped her brow and cleaned the blood coming from deep inside, and with that care, Bella hoped to soothe Renee's ravaged self.

It was not beauty, wealth, or talent, Bella said, and certainly not fame. None of those things made life lovely or worthwhile. In the end everyone faced the same departure from their fleshly tents.

What stood was forgiveness…taken in…given out, she said.

The love one had known came out of this…forgiveness, she said. It's what led the way into the hereafter, it's what remained behind like a lantern's glow after one left.

Bella had read the scripture about love to her mother in the hope of giving that tortured one comfort. But Renee couldn't take it in, like rich gravy to an aching belly, she couldn't take love in for she was full up…of bitter.

Forgiveness was house-cleaning inside, it made the space…for love, Bella told her.

But Renee was filled already. It was that brackish water she spoke from, that broken cistern she reasoned from, struggled in. She died like that, hate framing every thought.

Still Bella read to her, speaking into the dark room of her mother's heart, her words standing frail, blowing away before they could stand-Love is patient, kind, does not envy, or boast, isn't proud, rude or self-seeking, not easily angered and keeps no record of wrongs, does not delight in evil, loves truth, protects…always, trusts and hopes, perseveres and never fails.

"For now, in your arms," Bella said, "I know I've forgiven Renee. Maybe all of them… in time. I won't be like her. Not in life…not in death. But what they did to you…it will take time for me to allow it…forgiveness."

She turned to him, "You're the one who showed me love. Jasper and Em, those others at the cove." She said that was her first look at how it could be if people loved one another, if they were family.

If not for what they'd showed, even scripture would just be a fairy story to her, something hard to understand in the world she had come from—a place of scheming and demanding, devouring of trust, captive, shrunken spirits and eroded souls.

Each had operated first and foremost for themselves. Even Phillip Dwyer in the end.

If what Edward figured was true…Dwyer had been a mix. Like Satan…evil cloaked in friendship.

Dwyer had always been civil, though he hadn't been around like the others. He'd seemed truly sorry over what she'd suffered under Victor and Laurent assuring her if he'd realized he never would have agreed. He said he and Renee had been assured Bella was cared for. They'd sent plenty of money for such, not that she'd realized much of it, or much care at all.

But knowing those two had died at Edward's hand, something she would never share with anyone but Jesus, she found herself unwilling to make much of an issue with Dwyer. And her mother…futile to add to her suffering.

And the affairs of her life before Edward had ultimately led her to him.

Dwyer had seen Renee got the best care for her illness. And he'd been helpful to Bella with the paperwork denoting the monies. He'd seen it got divided in a way to ask forgiveness for the sad humanity her mother and Charles and James had trampled to climb up top. It had seemed that way and she had trusted him although she suspected Dwyer took care of himself, was well paid and then some for what he did. But she did not make that her fight. The money was poison to her.

It also seemed Dwyer had tried to keep Junior and Bella's Aunt Jane and Charles' scandalous abandonment of his first family out of the courts. Junior had struggled enough, the fatherless charity case amongst four beloved uncles who also had sons. He had struggled to find professional respectability without needing the details of his father's affairs brought forth in a trial as notorious as Charles' whole life had been.

But Bella wondered now, had Junior meeting Dwyer been orchestrated too? For Junior, well-schooled in the law, had a tie to Charles' money should he pursue his rights down the road.

Was there ever going to be a trial, or had Junior been led to Richmond to be killed while she was led on a false mission to Washington to meet her own horrible fate with James?

She better understood Edward's treatment of Dwyer. If he was in league with James, how far had it reached?

"All the way to the grave," Edward said. "Look at your half-brother and understand."

Edward's tale did not include much sentiment. Only his fear over losing Bella. And that he could not explain in words.

But his tale was ruthless, what he had to say, and the only redemption in it was that he'd stopped those who'd gone so deep into darkness they didn't remember another way.

He told her of the killings, the ones he'd done, the one he'd seen done. There was no reason to hold it for they were her kin and she had set out from him to put it to rights, and he had forced his way into the heart of it and set it right.

He would not hide this from her. Or nothing that would serve to clear their understanding.

All her life she had been held out. It led to her not knowing and she was used—her name, her innocence, her talent, her very life. And he would not hold her out.

She had not known and he told her then what was around it, the killings, the life in that place she'd also been held in, the Silver Swan. He'd seen it from the far end, as a hand, low man, the ruthless side of the doors she'd only peeked through.

For some time she was mute.

They did not spare one another then. It was a throw down. This is what I did, what happened. This is what I saw, felt, suffered, learned.

She told of Victor and Laurent's drunken taunting, putting out she was whore. They resented her, resented being stuck in Tennessee.

Edward had been her revenge. She let him into the prize…her. It was the only power she had, felt like. She was ruined and gladly.

Well he took that hard. They fought some then, and she stood her ground. Edward was the first one she could allow. Something…she knew she could do it with him. And she had. And they had not expected it. And she had suffered then, Victor trying to force her, saying it didn't matter now she had whored.

She fought him off and Laurent was jealous and kept him in check. And she had Edward's money and she tried to escape.

But it had been hard, impossible most days, her thinking she'd lose her mind. She had never regretted Edward. He had gotten inside of her in more ways than carnal. It felt like kindness and she was starved. She nearly begged for his help but she didn't think he'd have a chance against those two and she couldn't gamble his life away. But the third time…when he'd taken her away…she was too weak…and too desperate.

He told her of his week with James, not all of it, but enough. And what a tale it was.

So it went, for three days, the back and forth, the protests, the outrage, the sorrow, the truth…the tearing themselves apart and the coming back again.

She had come from a family of outlaws and it wasn't a body's crime to be born in to such. She had not been loved. It made him sick to know that, and to what degree.

He'd stepped into the hive, to get stung and to sting, to do what he had to.

"You're my wife," he said. "I meant those vows. Every word."

"And you are that. You're true and real. But me…I told you I wouldn't let you be hurt," she said fierce, right in his face. "And I failed at that. But I tried. Dammit you have to know, Edward…I tried."

He had told her to still then. He'd said, "Bella…." For he was not condemning her.

"Please say you love me," she demanded.

"I did say it. I do love you," he said just as firm.

"But that word. I crave it."

"I love you," he said. "Long as I live…and after."

"Say it alone… 'love,'" she said and he reckoned she'd gone loco, but he grabbed her arms and held her in a way the fiercest wind couldn't tear at without taking them both.

"Love," he said like he was pronouncing such for all the world. Then he leaned in so his lips touched her ear. "Love," he whispered, drawing out the L.

She shuddered and pressed her hand back of his head so his face stayed there against her and his breath warm on her neck.

"Well, I longed to hear it," she whispered after a while, the sting of tears still in her voice.

"Love," he said again, more loudly but so gentle. It was fact.

She turned her head and kissed him in fierce answer. Her arms around him now. And he understood how she felt. And inside he was afraid of ever losing her, and he rose to meet her in the way he kissed her back…laid her down…put his flesh against her…took her strong and frantic.

"Love," he said as he moved in her. "Love."

They took their time heading home. They counted their money, and they had a few hundred dollars. She wanted to settle in the cove but they both knew the house that stood belonged to Jasper. For he had been its heart since the war.

They speculated on whether or not he'd married Alice. Or if he'd sent her home.

"Maybe she shot everybody," Edward said, the dread in him for voicing it.

But they did not believe such. More likely those two got hitched.

He told her Emmett's plans to live in the cabin and come spring he would most likely add some to that.

Then he told her of the place he'd like to build their house, it was a half mile from the house stood now, flat with a gentle slope leading to a meadow surrounded by trees. It come to him one night in Richmond when he was feeling bad. He saw it and he knew he'd bring her there.

"I can see it," she told him, and they weren't far out from the cove now, but on a train headed for Forks.

And she told him what she saw and she was in his mind. A house with two stories, one atop another, but taller than an attic. And a porch along the front, wide for setting and children about. Did he want children?

He smiled. "With all the mating going on," he whispered, "…it works that way."

And she did put her hand over her mouth and laugh soft. Her hand went to her stomach and his eyes on it. She knew.

Forks got rearranged sometimes, a new building here, but another burned to the ground yonder. In all it did not ever change very much.

Near two months they'd been gone. Chill in the air. Sky gone to some gray. He liked the air here, clean off the Piney. Home.

They went in the station house and got the surprise. Marie bustling about sweeping the floor. She had not gone home to Chicago. She had married Felix instead. They ran the station now as she had found his casual trade in horses no-account.

Felix would ride them up the cove and so they did agree. They did not ask after the others.

"We heard you were in trouble. That wire helped some…to know you lived…but when Edward did not come home…Jasper has been beside himself."

Well…he would be. Even now Edward felt his brother's distress. His own had cloaked over it and he had not allowed himself to wonder over them too much. He had not strength for it, no attention to spare.

But now…they were here.

So Felix drove the wagon that took them home and he insisted Bella ride in the seat for a spell and he sat in the bed, and she often reached for him and he held her hand for the first part there.

After they stopped to rest a spell Edward switched off with her and she did ride in back then, and he could not stand the separation and climbed back with her and he held her there. He was eager to see Emmett. To see his brother, but not to feel that one's sorrow. No more sorrow, please. And hell to pay for any of it, no thank you.

So it was with relief and trepidation some past sundown he viewed the graded road led to the homeplace. It weren't long now.

They entered the cove and Alice was the first one out, she came running toward the wagon with the energy of a child. She looked good, healthy, and her hair curling longer, and no gun in her hand, thank God, for that is the first thing Edward checked.

"Oh Lord," Alice cried spying Edward and Bella in the bed, "…he will…." Then she took off running for the house and yelling like Allen might have.

Felix had just stopped the team when Jasper came hobbling out. Edward knew he'd been sitting, long enough his ankles hadn't had the needed time to limber up for walking quick. Well, his hair was cut short and he looked…really good. Some weight on him for once, and his face, well Edward was scarce ready for such emotion from him.

"I cut across Illinois," was the first Edward said, helping Bella from the wagon.

"You put your foot on it?" Jasper said.

"Nope," Edward answered proud. "Not a toe. Pissed from the car…right on it."

Jasper nodded. "Well I married a gal from there."

Alice held onto Jasper's arm and held out her hand showing that ring from their ma.

"Well…congratulations to you," Edward said, and Bella echoed. Alice went to her and Bella grabbed on and they hugged tightly.

"I married this one," Edward said, nodding at Bella casual.

"Where you been?" Jasper said taking the first stair. Well their eyes were locked on one another.

"Bringing Bella home…mostly," Edward said.

"Hey! You're talking," Alice said.

Edward nodded, a mite self-aware.

"Well…she's been good for you," Jasper conceded. Bella went to Jasper and hugged him now and he returned it, though Edward saw his struggle to take his eyes off him.

Bella returned to Edward and he swooped her up and said, "Let's go in, I'm about starved. Where's that boy of mine?"

The four went in while Felix tended the horses.

"Oh that boy of yours," Alice laughed, running to the stove where food was perfuming the air with good smells.

Edward set Bella on her feet and kissed her quick. She took off her hat and coat and hung these and took Edward's as well and the womenfolk busied themselves to set food, and Jasper and Edward stood awkward some as they shared news.

"The baby was born," Jasper said. "You're a grandpa now…well me too pretty much," and he went to shake Edward's hand and it went further, Jasper wrapping him in a hug took his breath for a moment, then broke off just as quick and Jasper's back turned and him going to the hearth and quick to dab his eyes.

"We got a baby," Edward said smiling and his own eyes wet, him looking at Bella and her coming to him and hugging him.

"You were right," she said, meaning the mating…well it was coming from all sides.

"And…," Alice laughed, taking Jasper's arm.

Jasper looked at her and laughed some, then at Edward. He seemed proud for the pecker…worked.

"Oh," Edward said, hugs again all around.

Well they sat to eat then, and conversation was joyous, then Felix came in and shared the table. But he would start back by the moon's light for he had no wish to dally. Old Pruney had worked a spell on him seemed. He wiped his boots, tucked his napkin, ate with a closed mouth, belched quiet and said thank you to the women before departing.

It was on the porch before bedtime where Edward was able to tell Jasper some. Jasper let it out how worried they'd been, and Emmett. Edward insisted he dared not to send word home not knowing if someone waited in Forks to discover where Bella was. He could not risk someone coming to the cove. He impressed upon Jasper how despicable Bella's people were. A den of outlaws, he'd said low-voiced.

That night in his bed, he held her finally. It's all he'd wanted from the first, the right to be here with her. Having it now was bliss. They did not make love in the truest sense, but they were content, sharing this bed and one another's arms. He said 'love,' several times and they did kiss and shared the news they'd heard from Jasper and Alice. In the morning he would see Em and the child, and yes the mother. Beyond them, Jacob and Esme and he'd be content.

And so in the morning the boy and his brood came early. But they were up and milking, and Em came into the barn and he ran to Edward and Edward did hug him and laugh and he put his arms around his pa and hefted him like he did sometimes and Edward felt his feet lift and he laughed and pounded Em's back.

"Son," Edward said and Em sat him down, his eyes wide and bright.

"You did not speak just now," Em said.

"I did," Edward said.

"How?"

For Edward had never spoken for him in his grown life. He could not then. He did not know exactly how he did now, only that it had come out.

So he shrugged. "Where's the baby?" He wanted to say, "Rosie. Where's Rosie?" but pride got in the way and he could not get it out with ease and his throat was tight.

"God above, you are speaking," Em said again and he took Edward's arm and they went out and Rosie had gone in and Em and Edward, Jasper behind with the buckets he set on the porch and they went in and Rosie in the rocker and Bella there just out of bed, bent over her, Alice by the stove holding a spoon, and that Rosie never so pretty and beaming with Em's love was the difference, and in her arms, just fine and fat and looking nothing like Shadrach thank the Lord, that baby there, and Edward went to them and smiled at Rosie and she lifted that mite and handed him to his grandpa and all the joy broke free that a body could hold in Edward and he did see his own boy in this one, that one he took that night from the sack, that angry wail, but that fine fat face as he'd held him by the fire and spoke soft to him and told him he would be fine now, he would be fine, and he said, "I'm…your pa," and it such a notion for strange, and him no pa, no nothing but a potato in body and mind, but the gift of his boy, and the horror of it, and now this one, and how it went on, the miracle, the life, and he laughed, and cried some, but he cared not that he did, for he was soft inside, in a new way, a way that was real, and he looked at his son so strong and proud, and that Rosie giving them this child, and his Bella, his glory, his heart, and his brother, his friend and true and the one brought Jasper to life, and rich? Oh, he was rich…so rich. So rich.

And he said, "Love," to that one there, in his arms…and to them all.

The End


End file.
